EPICURUS 
Bronze  Bust  in  National  Museum,  Naples. 


WHY  WORRY? 


BY 


J 


GEORGE  LINCOLN  WALTON,  M.D. 

CONSULTING  NEUROLOGIST   TO  THE    MASSACHUSETTS    GENERAL   HOSPITAL 


The  legs  of  the  stork  are  long,  the  legs  of  the  duck  are  short; 
you  cannot  make  the  legs  of  the  stork  short,  neither  can  you 
make  the  legs  of  the  duck  long.  Why  worry? — Chwang  fi*e. 


SECOND  EDITION 
REVISED  AND  ENLARGED 


PHILADELPHIA  AND  LONDON 
J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


OOPTBIOHT,  1907,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  IOMPAN1 
COPTBIGHT,  1908,  BY  J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
•OPYBIOHT,  1918,  BY  I.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


POINTED   BT    1.    B.   LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON  SQUABK  PREHS 

PHILADELPHIA,   U.  8.  A. 


TO 

HY   LONG-SUFFERING  FAMILY 
AND 

CIBCLE  OF  FKIEND8, 

WHOSE  PATIENCE  HAS  BEEN  TRIED  BY 
MY  EFFORTS  TO  ELIMINATE  WORRY,  THIS 
BOOK  18  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED. 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

THE  first  edition  of  "Why  Worry?" 
appeared  in  1908.  Since  it  was  my  first 
venture  into  print  for  the  eyes  of  the 
general  public,  it  probably  was  not  un- 
natural that  I  looked  for  the  reviews 
with  an  anxious  interest  that  marked 
me  as  a  victim  of  the  malady  for 
which  I  had  attempted  to  give  counsel. 
My  main  fear  was  lest  it  be  deemed 
frivolous.  The  first  review  to  meet  my 
eyes — that  of  a  Boston  paper — set  all 
fears  upon  this  point  at  rest.  It  treated 
the  book  very  seriously.  It  was  likely, 
the  reviewer  said,  to  increase,  rather 
than  lessen,  the  sum  total  of  the  reader's 
worry,  by  calling  attention  to  the  many 
things  to  worry  about,  which  might 
otherwise  have  escaped  his  notice! 
If  I  had  not  steeled  my  heart  against 
melancholy,  this  would  have  been  a 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

bitter  blow.  And  even  though  I  had, 
I  cannot  claim  that  it  amused  me. 

This  proved,  happily,  to  be  the  last, 
as  well  as  the  first,  unfavorable  review 
brought  to  my  notice.  Nor  has  the 
event  justified  the  prognosis.  At  least 
among  the  letters  I  have  received,  many 
of  which  speak  gratefully  of  assistance 
rendered,  none  contain  reproach. 

I  take  this  opportunity  to  thank,  in 
my  turn,  the  many  friends  who  have 
furthered  the  influence  of  the  book  by 
bringing  it  to  the  notice  of  those  who 
need  it.  I  refer  particularly  to  the 
physicians  who  have  placed  it  on  their 
waiting  room  tables,  to  say  nothing  of 
prescribing  it. 

Further  experience  has  fortified  the 
view  that  direct  appeal  only  irritates 
the  worrier,  and  that  specific  advice, 
however  sound,  is  apt  to  be  contemptu- 
ously disregarded  by  the  very  person 


PREFACE  TO  SECOND  EDITION 

ivho  becomes,  as  the  result  of  some 
chance  word,  heard  or  read,  an  active 
apostle  of  the  "don't  worry"  creed.  It 
is  with  this  in  mind  that  I  have  played 
so  many  tunes  upon  a  single  string,  not 
knowing  which  will  be  the  one  to  rouse 
an  answering  chord  in  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  reader. 

G.  L.  W. 

BOSTON,  1919. 


PREFACE. 

No  apology  is  needed  for  adding 
another  to  the  treatises  on  a  subject 
whose  importance  is  evidenced  by  the 
number  already  offered  the  public. 

The  habit  of  worry  is  not  to  be 
overcome  by  unaided  resolution.  It 
is  hoped  that  the  victim  of  this  un- 
fortunate tendency  may  find,  among 
the  homely  illustrations  and  common- 
place suggestions  here  offered,  some- 
thing to  turn  his  mind  into  more 
healthy  channels.  It  is  not  the  aim 
of  the  writer  to  transform  the  busy 
man  into  a  philosopher  of  the  indol- 
ent and  contemplative  type,  but 
rather  to  enable  him  to  do  his  work 
more  effectively  by  eliminating  un- 
due solicitude.  This  elimination  is 
consistent  even  with  the  "  strenuous 
life." 


PREFACE 

One  writer  has  distinguished  be- 
tween normal  and  abnormal  worry, 
and  directed  his  efforts  against  the 
latter.  Webster's  definition  of  worry 
(A  state  of  undue  solicitude)  obvi- 
ates the  necessity  of  deciding  what 
degree  and  kind  of  worry  is  abnor- 
mal, and  directs  attention  rather  to 
deciding  what  degree  of  solicitude 
may  be  fairly  adjudged  undue. 

In  the  treatment  of  a  subject  of 
this  character  a  certain  amount  of 
repetition  is  unavoidable.  But  it  is 
hoped  that  the  reiteration  of  funda- 
mental principles  and  of  practical 
hints  will  aid  in  the  application  of 
the  latter.  The  aim  is  the  gradual 
establishment  of  a  frame  of  mind. 
The  reader  who  looks  for  the  annihi- 
lation of  individual  worries,  or  who 
hopes  to  influence  another  by  the 
direct  application  of  the  suggestions, 


PREFACE 

may  prepare,  in  the  first  instance  for 
disappointment,  in  the  second,  for 
trouble. 

The  thanks  of  the  writer  are  due 
to  Miss  Amy  Morris  Romans,  Direc- 
tor of  the  Boston  Normal  School  of 
Gymnastics,  for  requesting  him  to 
make  to  her  students  the  address 
which  forms  the  nucleus  of  these 

pages. 

GEORGE  L.  WALTON. 

BOSTON,  April,  1Q08. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAOJE 

I.    INTRODUCTORY 13 

II.    EPICURUS  AS  A  MENTAL  HEALER 22 

III.  THE    PSTCHO  -  THERAPY    OF    MARCUS 

AURELIUS 30 

IV.  ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 39 

V.    WORRY  AND   OBSESSION 53 

VI.    THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 82 

VII.  HYPOCHONDRIA 101 

VIII.  NEURASTHENIA 129 

IX.  SLEEPLESSNESS 147 

X.  OCCUPATION  NEUROSIS 166 

XI.  THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 172 

XII.  THE  WORRIER  ON  HIS  TRAVELS 184 

XIII.  THE  WORRIER  AT  THE  TABLE 190 

XIV.  THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 197 

XV.  RECAPITULATORY 210 

XVI.  MAXIMS  MISAPPLIED f  14 

XVII.  THE  FAD 222 

XVIII.  HOME  TREATMENT 242 

XIX.  HOME  TREATMENT  CONTINUED 259 

XX.     NOBODY  KNOWS — WHAT  OF  IT? 270 


DEFINITIONS. 

WORRY.     A  state  of  undue  solicitude. 

HYPOCHONDRIA.  A  morbid  mental  condition 
characterized  by  undue  solicitude  regarding 
the  health,  and  undue  attention  to  matters 
thereto  pertaining. 

OBSESSION.  An  unduly  insistent  and  compulsive 
thought,  habit  of  mind,  or  tendency  to  action. 

DOUBTING  FOLLY  (Folie  du  doute.}  A  state  of 
mind  characterized  by  a  tendency  unduly  to 
question,  argue  and  speculate  upon  ordinary 
matters. 

NEURASTHENIA.  A  form  of  nervous  disturbance 
characterized  by  exhaustion  and  irritability. 

PHOBIA.  An  insistent  and  engrossing  fear  with- 
out adequate  cause,  as  judged  by  ordinary 
standards. 

OCCUPATION  NEUROSIS.  A  nervous  disorder  in 
which  pain,  sometimes  with  weakness  and 
cramp,  results  from  continued  use  of  a  part. 

PSYCHO-THERAPY.    Treatment  through  the  mind. 

No  other  technical  terms  are  used. 


11 


I. 

INTRODUCTORY 

WHEN  Thales  was  asked  what  was  difficult  he  said, 
"  To  know  oneself";  and  what  was  easy,  "To  advise 
another." 

MARCUS  AURELIUS  counselled,  "Let 
another  pray,  'Save  Thou  my  child/ 
but  do  thou  pray,  'Let  me  not  fear  to 
lose  him/ 

Few  of  us  are  likely  to  attain  this 
level;  few,  perhaps,  aspire  to  do  so. 
Nevertheless,  the  training  which  falls 
short  of  producing  complete  self-con- 
trol may  yet  accomplish  something  in 
the  way  of  fitting  us,  by  taking  the 
edge  off  our  worry,  to  react  more 
comfortably  to  our  surroundings, 
thus  not  only  rendering  us  more  de- 
sirable companions,  but  contribut- 
ing directly  to  our  own  health  and 
happiness. 

13 


WHY  WORRY? 

Under  the  ills  produced  by  faulty 
mental  tendencies  I  do  not  include 
cancer  and  the  like.  This  inclusion 
seems  to  me  as  subversive  of  the  laws 
of  nature  as  the  cure  of  such  disease 
by  mental  treatment  would  be  mirac- 
ulous. At  the  same  time,  serious 
disorders  surely  result  from  faulty 
mental  tendencies. 

In  this  category  we  must  include, 
for  example,  hypochondria,  a  dis- 
turbance shown  by  undue  anxiety 
concerning  one's  own  physical  and 
mental  condition.  This  disorder, 
with  the  allied  fears  resulting  from 
the  urgent  desire  to  be  always  abso- 
lutely safe,  absolutely  well,  and 
absolutely  comfortable,  is  capable,  in 
extreme  cases,  of  so  narrowing  the 
circle  of  pleasure  and  of  usefulness 
that  the  sufferer  might  almost  as  well 
have  organic  disease. 

14 


INTRODUCTORY 

Neurasthenia  (nervous  prostra- 
tion) has  for  its  immediate  exciting 
cause  some  overwork  or  stress  of  cir- 
cumstance, but  the  sufferer  not  in- 
frequently was  already  so  far  handi- 
capped by  regrets  for  the  past,  doubts 
for  the  present,  and  anxieties  for  the 
future,  by  attention  to  minute  details 
and  by  unwillingness  to  delegate  re- 
sponsibilities to  others,  that  he  was 
exhausted  by  his  own  mental  travail 
before  commencing  upon  the  over- 
work which  precipitated  his  break- 
down. In  such  cases  the  occasion  of 
the  collapse  may  have  been  his  work, 
but  the  underlying  cause  was  deeper. 
Many  neurasthenics  who  think  they 
are  "all  run  down"  are  really  "all 
wound  up."  They  carry  their  stress 
with  them. 

Among  the  serious  results  of  faulty 
mental  habit  must  be  included  also 

15 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  doubting  folly  (folie  du  doute). 
The  victim  of  this  disorder  is  so 
querulously  anxious  to  make  no  mis- 
take that  he  is  forever  returning  to 
see  if  he  has  turned  out  the  gas, 
locked  the  door,  and  the  like;  in  ex- 
treme cases  he  finally  doubts  the  actu- 
ality of  his  own  sensations,  and  so  far 
succumbs  to  chronic  indecision  as 
seriously  to  handicap  his  efforts.  This 
condition  has  been  aptly  termed  a 
"spasm  of  the  attention." 

The  apprehensive  and  fretful  may 
show,  in  varying  degree,  signs  of 
either  or  all  these  conditions,  accord- 
ing as  circumstances  may  direct  their 
attention. 

Passing  from  serious  disorders  to 
minor  sources  of  daily  discomfort, 
there  are  few  individuals  so  mentally 
gifted  that  they  are  impervious  to  the 
distress  occasioned  by  variations  of 

16 


INTRODUCTORY 

temperature  and  of  weather;  to  the 
annoyance  caused  by  criticism,  neg- 
lect, and  lack  of  appreciation  on  the 
part  of  their  associates ;  to  active  re- 
sentment, even  anger,  upon  moderate 
provocation;  to  loss  of  temper  when 
exhausted;  to  embarrassment  in  un- 
usual situations;  to  chronic  inde- 
cision; to  the  sleeplessness  resulting 
from  mental  preoccupation;  and 
above  all,  to  the  futile  regrets,  the 
querulous  doubts,  and  the  undue 
anxiety  included  under  the  term 
worry,  designated  by  a  recent  author 
4 'the  disease  of  the  age." 

Something  may  be  accomplished  in 
the  way  of  lessening  all  these  ills  by 
continuous,  properly  directed  effort 
on  the  part  of  the  individual. 
Every  inroad  upon  one  faulty  habit 
strengthens  the  attack  upon  all,  and 
each  gain  means  a  step  toward  the 

2  17 


WHY  WORRY? 

acquisition  of  a  mental  poise  that 
shall  give  its  possessor  comparative 
immunity  from  the  petty  annoyances 
of  daily  life. 

In  modern  psycho-therapy  the  sug- 
gestion, whether  on  the  part  of  the 
physician  or  of  the  patient,  plays  a 
prominent  part,  and  it  is  in  this  di- 
rection, aside  from  the  advice  regard- 
ing occupation  and  relaxation,  that 
my  propositions  will  trend.  I  shall 
not  include,  however,  suggestions  de- 
pending for  their  efficacy  upon  self- 
deceit,  such  as  might  spring,  for 
example,  from  the  proposition  that 
if  we  think  there  is  a  fire  in  the  stove 
it  warms  us,  or  that  if  we  break  a 
pane  in  the  bookcase  thinking  it  a 
window,  we  inhale  with  pleasure  the 
resulting  change  of  air.  The  sug- 
gestions are  intended  to  appeal  to 
the  reason,  rather  than  to  the 
imagination. 

18 


INTRODUCTORY 

The  special  aim  will  be  to  pay  at- 
tention to  the  different  varieties  of 
worry,  and  to  offer  easily  understood 
and  commonplace  suggestions  which 
any  one  may  practice  daily  and  con- 
tinuously, at  last  automatically,  with- 
out interfering  with  his  routine  work 
or  recreation.  Indeed  the  tranquil 
mind  aids,  rather  than  hinders,  effi- 
cient work,  by  enabling  its  possessor 
to  pass  from  duty  to  duty  without  the 
hindrance  of  undue  solicitude. 

In  advising  the  constitutional  wor- 
rier the  chief  trouble  the  physician 
finds  is  an  active  opposition  on  the 
part  of  the  patient.  Instead  of  ac- 
cepting another's  estimate  of  his  con- 
dition, and  another's  suggestions  for 
its  relief,  he  comes  with  a  precon- 
ceived notion  of  his  own  difficulties, 
and  with  an  insistent  demand  for 
their  instant  relief  by  drug  or  other- 

19 


WHY  WORRY? 

wise.  He  uses  up  his  mental  energy, 
and  loses  his  temper,  in  the  effort  to 
convince  his  physician  that  he  is  not 
argumentative.  In  a  less  unreason- 
able, but  equally  difficult  class,  come 
those  who  recognize  the  likeness  in 
the  portrait  painted  by  the  con- 
sultant, but  who  say  they  have  tried 
everything  he  suggests,  but  simply 
"cant" 

It  is  my  hope  that  some  of  the 
argumentative  class  may  recognize, 
in  my  description,  their  own  case  in- 
stead of  their  neighbor's,  and  may  of 
their  own  initiative  adopt  some  of  the 
suggestions;  moreover,  that  some  of 
the  acquiescent,  but  despairing  class 
will  renew  their  efforts  in  a  different 
spirit.  The  aim  is,  not  to  accomplish 
a  complete  and  sudden  cure,  but  to 
gain  something  every  day,  or  if  losing 

a  little  to-day,  to  gain  a  little  to-mor- 
20 


INTRODUCTORY 

row,  and  ultimately  to  find  one's  self 
on  a  somewhat  higher  plane,  with- 
out discouragement  though  not  com- 
pletely freed  from  the  trammels 
entailed  by  faulty  mental  habit. 


H. 

EPICURUS  AS  A  MENTAL  HEALER 

Tis  to  believe  what  men  inspired  of  old, 
Faithful,   and   faithfully   informed,   unfold. 

Cowper. 

THE  suggestions  offered  in  the 
following  pages  are  not  new.  Many 
of  them  were  voiced  by  Epicurus 
three  hundred  years  before  Christ, 
and  even  then  were  ancient  history. 
Unfortunately  Epicurus  had  his  de- 
tractors. One,  Timocrates,  in  par- 
ticular, a  renegade  from  his  school, 
spread  malicious  and  unfounded  re- 
ports of  his  doings  and  sayings, 
reports  too  easily  credited  then,  and 
starting,  perhaps,  the  misconception 
which  to-day  prevails  regarding  the 
aims  of  this  philosopher. 

But  when  Marcus  Aurelius,  nearly 
22 


EPICURUS  AS  A  MENTAL  HEALER 

five  centuries  later,  decided  to  endow 
a  philosophical  professoriate  he  es- 
tablished the  Epicurean  as  one  of  the 
four  standard  schools.  The  endorse- 
ment of  such  a  one  should  surely  pre- 
dispose us  to  believe  the  authentic 
commentators  of  Epicurus,  and  to 
discredit  the  popular  notion  which 
makes  his  cult  synonymous  with  the 
gratification  of  the  appetites,  instead 
of  with  the  mental  tranquillity  to 
which  he  regarded  sensual  pleasures 
so  detrimental  that  he  practically 
limited  his  diet,  and  that  of  his  dis- 
ciples, to  bread  and  water. 

It  is  of  special  encouragement  to 
such  of  us  as  painfully  realize  our 
meagre  equipment  for  reaching  a 
high  plane  of  self-control,  to  learn 
that  Epicurus  was  by  nature  delicate 
and  sensitive.  At  seven  years  of  age, 
we  are  told,  he  could  not  support  him- 

23 


WHY  WORRY? 

self  on  tiptoe,  and  called  himself  the 
feeblest  of  boys.  It  is  said  that  in 
his  boyhood  he  had  to  be  lifted  from 
his  chair,  that  he  could  not  look  on 
the  sun  or  a  fire,  and  that  his  skin  was 
so  tender  as  to  prevent  his  wearing 
any  dress  beyond  a  simple  tunic. 
These  physical  characteristics  sug- 
gest the  makings  of  a  first  class 
"fuss"  and  inveterate  worrier.  In 
this  event  his  emancipation  from 
such  tendencies  must  have  been  due 
to  the  practice  of  his  own  philosophy. 

As  an  antidote  for  the  fear  of  death 
and  the  miraculous  in  the  heavens 
Epicurus  urges  the  study  of  Nature, 
showing  his  appreciation  of  the  fact 
that  one  thought  can  only  be  driven 
out  by  another,  as  well  as  of  the  im- 
portance of  the  open  air  treatment 
of  depressing  fears. 

That  he  recognized  the  doubting 

24 


EPICURUS  AS  A  MENTAL  HEALER 

folly  and  its  evils  is  shown  by  the  fol- 
lowing Maxim  for  the  Wise  man: 

"He  shall  be  steady  in  his  opinion 
and  not  wavering  and  doubtful  in 
everything." 

To  the  hypochondriac  he  said: 

"  Health  in  the  opinion  of  some  is 
a  precious  thing;  others  rank  it 
among  the  indifferent."  Again: 

"If  the  body  be  attacked  by  a 
violent  pain  the  evil  soon  has  an 
end;  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  pain  be 
languishing  and  of  long  duration  it  is 
sensible  beyond  all  doubt  of  some 
pleasure  therefrom.  Thus,  most 
chronical  distempers  have  intervals 
that  afford  us  more  satisfaction  and 
ease  than  the  distempers  we  labor  un- 
der cause  pain."  And  further: 

"The  Wise  man  takes  care  to  pre- 
serve the  unequivocable  blessing  of 
an  undisturbed  and  quiet  mind  even 


25 


WHY  WORRY? 

amidst  the  groans  and  complaints 
which  excess  of  pain  extorts  from 
him."  He  states,  again,  that  one  can 
be  happy  though  blind. 

Regarding  insomnia,  he  recognized 
the  futility  of  expecting  restful  sleep 
to  follow  a  day  of  fret  and  worry.  He 
says: 

"He  shall  enjoy  the  same  tranquil- 
lity in  his  sleep  as  when  awake." 

Epicurus  realized  that  the  appar- 
ent inability  of  the  old  to  acquire  new 
habits  is  due  rather  to  lack  of  atten- 
tion, and  to  indifference  or  preoccu- 
pation, than  to  lack  of  aptitude.  He 
placed,  in  fact,  no  limit  to  the  age 
for  learning  new  methods,  stating  in 
his  letter  to  Meneceus, — 

"Youth  is  no  obstacle  to  the  study 
of  philosophy — neither  ought  we  to 
be  ashamed  to  concentrate  our  later 
years  to  the  labor  of  speculation. 

26 


EPICURUS  AS  A  MENTAL  HEALER 

Man  has  no  time  limit  for  learning, 
and  ought  never  to  want  strength  to 
cure  his  mind  of  all  the  evils  that 
afflict  it." 

Epicurus  does  not  counsel  seclusion 
for  the  cultivation  of  tranquillity,  but 
holds  that  mental  equipoise  "may  be 
maintained  though  one  mingles  with 
the  world,  provided  he  keeps  with- 
in the  bounds  of  temperance,  and 
limits  his  desires  to  what  is  easily 
obtained." 

Curiously  enough,  in  view  of  the 
idea  of  epicureanism  which  has  be- 
come proverbial,  Epicurus  regards 
the  avoidance  of  excess  a  logical  and 
necessary  step  toward  the  tranquil 
life,  and  among  other  admonitions  is 
found  the  following  Maxim : 

"The  Wise  man  ought  never  to 
drink  to  excess,  neither  must  he  spend 
the  nights  revelling  and  feasting." 

*       27 


WHY  WORRY? 

We  may  conclude  our'  selection 
from  the  Maxims  of  Epicurus  by  one 
which  strikes  a  body-blow  at  worry 
and  the  allied  faulty  mental  habits : 

"That  being  who  is  happy  and  im- 
mortal is  in  no  way  solicitous  or 
uneasy  on  any  account,  neither  does 
he  torment  or  tease  others;  anger  is 
unworthy  of  his  greatness  .  .  .  for 
all  these  things  are  the  property  of 
weakness." 

Such  then,  was  the  real  Epicurus, 
not  a  seeker  after  effeminate  luxury, 
but  a  chaste  and  frugal  philosopher, 
serene  of  mien,  and  of  gentle  dis- 
position, firm  in  his  friendships, 
but  sacrificing  to  them  none  of  the 
high  ideals  which  characterized  his 
thought.  He  erred,  doubtless,  in  the 
avoidance  of  responsibilities  and  in 
narrowing  his  efforts  to  promoting 
the  happiness  of  his  own  immediate 

28 


EPICURUS  AS  A  MENTAL  HEALER 

circle,  but  he  was  fearless  in  the  de- 
fence of  his  principles  and  steadfast 
in  the  pursuit  of  the  tranquillity 
which  for  him  included  truth. 


III. 

MARCUS  AURELIUS 

SUCH  a  body  of  teachers  distinguished  by  their 
acquirements  and  character  will  hardly  be  collected 
again;  and  as  to  the  pupil,  we  have  not  had  another 

like  him  since. 

Long. 

MARCUS  AURELIUS  ANTONINUS,  the 
philosopher  -  Emperor,  showed  by 
practice  as  well  as  by  precept  that  the 
tranquil  mind  is  not  incompatible 
with  a  life  of  action.  Destined  from 
birth  to  stand  at  the  head  of  a  great 
empire  engaged  in  distant  wars, 
threatened  by  barbaric  invasion,  and 
not  without  internal  dissension,  he 
was  prepared  not  only  to  command 
armies  but  to  govern  himself.  For- 
tunately we  are  not  without  a  clue  to 
his  methods — he  not  only  had  the  best 
of  teachers,  but  continued  his  train- 

30 


MAfcCUS  AtlRELItTS 

ing  all  through  his  life.  When  we 
consider  his  labors,  the  claim  of  the 
busy  man  of  to-day  that  he  has  "no 
time"  seems  almost  frivolous. 

The  Thoughts  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
(of  which  the  following  citations  are 
from  Long's  translation)  were  writ- 
ten, not  for  self-exploitation,  nor  from 
delight  in  rounded  periods,  but  for 
his  own  guidance.  That  he  was  in 
fact  guided  by  his  principles  no  bet- 
ter illustration  offers  than  his  mag- 
nanimity toward  the  adherents  of  one 
who  would  have  usurped  the  throne 
of  the  Caesars.  The  observation  of 
Long  that  fine  thoughts  and  moral 
dissertations  from  men  who  have  not 
worked  and  suffered  may  be  read,  but 
will  be  forgotten,  seems  to  have  been 
exemplified  in  the  comparative  ob- 
livion into  which  the  philosophy  of 
Epicurus  has  fallen. 

31 


WHY  WORRY? 

It  is  with  the  ethical  side  of  the 
philosophy  of  Marcus  Aurelius  that 
we  are  concerned,  and  with  that  por- 
tion only  which  bears  on  the  question 
of  mental  equipoise. 

" Begin  the  morning, "  he  says,  "by 
saying  to  thyself,  I  shall  meet  with 
the  busybody,  the  ungrateful,  arro- 
gant, deceitful,  envious,  unsocial.  All 
these  things  happen  to  them  by  rea- 
son of  their  ignorance  of  what  is  good 
and  evil." 

With  regard  to  the  habit  of  seclu- 
sion common  among  the  self-con- 
scious, he  says: 

"If  thou  didst  ever  see  a  hand  cut 
off,  or  a  foot,  or  a  head,  lying  any- 
where apart  from  the  rest  of  the 
body,  such  does  a  man  make  himself, 
as  far  as  he  can,  who  is  not  content 
with  what  happens,  and  separates 
himself  from  others,  or  does  any 

82 


thing  unsocial.  Suppose  that  thou 
hast  detached  thyself  from  the 
natural  unity — for  thou  wast  made 
by  nature  a  part,  but  now  thou  hast 
cut  thyself  off — yet  here  there  is  this 
beautiful  provision,  that  it  is  in  thy 
power  again  to  unite  thyself.  God 
has  allowed  this  to  no  other  part, 
after  it  has  been  separated  and  cut 
asunder,  to  come  together  again.  But 
consider  the  kindness  by  which  he  has 
distinguished  man,  for  he  has  put  it 
in  his  power  not  to  be  separated  at  all 
from  the  universal ;  and  when  he  has 
been  separated,  he  has  allowed  him 
to  return  and  to  resume  his  place  as  a 
part." 

On  the  futile  foreboding  which 
plays  so  large  a  part  in  the  tribulation 
of  the  worrier,  he  says : 

"Do  not  disturb  thyself  by  think- 
ing of  the  whole  of  thy  life.  Let  not 

3  33 


WHY  WORRY? 

thy  thoughts  at  once  embrace  all  the 
various  troubles  which  thou  mavest 

* 

expect  to  befall  thee;  but  on  every 
occasion  ask  thyself,  What  is  there 
in  this  which  is  intolerable  and  past 
bearing  ?  for  thou  wilt  be  ashamed  to 
confess.  In  the  next  place  remember 
that  neither  the  future  nor  the  past 
pains  thee,  but  only  the  present.  But 
this  is  reduced  to  a  very  little,  if  thou 
only  circumscribest  it,  and  chidest 
thy  mind,  if  it  is  unable  to  hold  out 
against  even  this."  Again:  "Let 
not  future  things  disturb  thee,  for 
thou  wilt  come  to  them,  if  it  shall  be 
necessary,  having  with  thee  the  same 
reason  which  now  thou  usest  for 
present  things." 

On  the  dismissal  of  useless  fret, 
and  concentration  upon  the  work  in 
hand,  he  says : 

"  Labor  not  as  one  who  is  wretched, 

34 


MARCUS  AURELIUS 

nor  yet  as  one  who  would  be  pitied  or 
admired;  but  direct  thy  will  to  one 
thing  only,  to  put  thyself  in  motion 
and  to  check  thyself,  as  the  social  rea- 
son requires." 

Regarding  senseless  fears  he  coun- 
sels: 

"What  need  is  there  of  suspicious 
fear,  since  it  is  in  thy  power  to  in- 
quire what  ought  to  be  done?  And 
if  thou  seest  clear,  go  by  this  way  con- 
tent, without  turning  back:  but  if 
thou  dost  not  see  clear,  stop  and  take 
the  best  advisers.  But  if  any  other 
things  oppose  thee,  go  on  according 
to  thy  powers  with  due  consideration, 
keeping  to  that  which  appears  to  be 
just.  For  it  is  best  to  reach  this  ob- 
ject, and  if  thou  dost  fail,  let  thy 
failure  be  in  attempting  this.  He 
who  follows  reason  in  all  things  is 
both  tranquil  and  active  at  the  same 

35 


WHY  WORRY? 

time, and  also  cheerful  and  collected." 

On  irritation  at  the  conduct  of 
others : 

"When  thou  art  offended  with  any 
man's  shameless  conduct,  immedi- 
ately ask  thyself,  Is  it  possible,  then, 
that  shameless  men  should  not  be  in 
the  world?  It  is  not  possible.  Do 
not,  then,  require  what  is  impossible. 
For  this  man  also  is  one  of  those 
shameless  men  who  must  of  necessity 
be  in  the  world.  Let  the  same  con- 
siderations be  present  in  thy  mind 
in  the  case  of  the  knave  and  the  faith- 
less man,  and  of  every  man  who  does 
wrong  in  any  way." 

Regarding  the  hypochondriacal  ten- 
dency he  reverts  to  Epicurus,  thus: 

"Epicurus  says,  In  my  sickness 
my  conversation  was  not  about  my 
bodily  sufferings,  nor  did  I  talk  on 
such  subjects  to  those  who  visited  me ; 

36 


MARCUS  AURELIUS 

but  I  continued  to  discourse  on  the 
nature  of  things  as  before,  keeping  to 
this  main  point,  how  the  mind,  while 
participating  in  such  movements  as 
go  on  in  the  poor  flesh,  shall  be  free 
from  perturbations  and  maintain  its 
proper  good.  .  .  .  Do,  then,  the  same 
that  he  did  both  in  sickness,  if  thou 
art  sick,  and  in  any  other  circum- 
stances ;  .  .  .  but  to  be  intent  only  on 
that  which  thou  art  now  doing  and 
on  the  instrument  by  which  thou 
doestit." 

These  quotations  will  serve  to  show 
the  trend  of  the  reflections  of  this  re- 
markable man.  After  reviewing  this 
epitome  of  ethical  philosophy  I  might 
stop  and  counsel  the  worrier  to  study 
the  thoughts  of  Marcus  Aurelius  and 
other  philosophers,  whose  practical 
suggestions  are  similar,  notwith- 
standing their  diversity  of  views  re- 

37 


WHY  WORRY? 

garding  the  ultimate  object  of  the 
training.  I  shall  venture,  however,  to 
elaborate  the  subject  from  the  pres- 
ent view-point,  even  though  the  prin- 
ciples of  Marcus  Aurelius  are  as 
applicable  now  as  they  were  in  the 
days  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

No  reminder  is  needed  of  the 
wealth  and  efficacy  of  suggestion  in 
the  Book  which  contains  the  state- 
ment that  "the  Kingdom  of  God  is 
within  you,"  and  that  "A  merry 
heart  doeth  good  like  a  medicine ;  but 
a  broken  spirit  drieth  the  bones." 
One  of  its  suggestions  was  paralleled 
by  the  philosopher-poet  when  he 
wrote : 

"  Latius  regnes  avidura  domando 
Spiritum,  quam,si  Libyam  remotis 
Gadibus  iungas  et  uterque  Poenus 
Serviat  uni." 


38 


IV. 

ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 

OF  these  points  the  principal  and  most  urgent  is 
that  which  reaches  the  passions;  for  passion  is  pro- 
duced no  otherwise  than  by  a  disappointment  of 
one's  desires  and  an  incurring  of  one's  aversions. 
It  is  this  which  introduces  perturbations,  tumutts, 
misfortunes,  and  calamities;  this  is  the  spring  of 
sorrow,  lamentation  and  envy;  this  renders  us  en- 
vious and  emulous,  and  incapable  of  hearing  reason. 

Epictetus. 

UNDER  this  rather  pretentious  title 
an  attempt  is  made  to  indicate  certain 
elements  of  worry.  No  claim  is  made 
that  the  treatment  of  the  subject  is 
exhaustive. 

The  motto  "Don't  Worry"  has  in- 
spired many  homilies.  But  the  mere 
resolve  to  follow  this  guide  to  hap- 
piness will  no  more  instantaneously 
free  one  from  the  meshes  of  worry 
than  the  resolve  to  perform  a  difficult 

39 


WHY  WORRY? 

gymnastic  feat  will  insure  its  imme- 
diate accomplishment. 

The  evils  of  worry  as  well  as  of  its 
frequent  associate,  anger,  have  been 
dwelt  upon  by  writers  philosophical, 
religious,  and  medical.  "  Worry, " 
says  one  author,  "is  the  root  of  all 
cowardly  passions, — jealousy,  fear, 
the  belittling  of  self,  and  all  the  intro- 
spective forms  of  depression  are  the 
children  of  worry."  The  symptoms 
and  the  evil  results  seem  to  receive 
more  elaborate  and  detailed  attention 
than  the  treatment.  "Eliminate  it," 
counsels  this  writer;  "Don't  worry," 
advises  another.  "Such  advice  is 
superficial,"  says  their  critic,  "it  can 
only  be  subdued  by  our  ascending 
into  a  higher  atmosphere,  where  we 
are  able  to  look  down  and  compre- 
hend the  just  proportions  of  life." 
"  Cultivate  a  quiet  and  peaceful 

40 


ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 

frame  of  mind,"  urges  another;  and 
still  another  advises  us  to  "occupy 
the  mind  with  better  things,  and  the 
best — is  a  habit  of  confidence  and 
repose." 

From  such  counsel  the  average  in- 
dividual succeeds  in  extracting  noth- 
ing tangible.  The  last  writer  of  those 
I  have  quoted  comes  perhaps  the 
nearest  to  something  definite  in  di- 
recting us  to  occupy  the  mind  with 
better  things;  in  the  suggestions  I 
have  to  offer  the  important  feature 
is  the  effort  to  replace  one  thought  by 
another,  though  not  necessarily  by  a 
better  one.  If  we  succeed  in  doing 
this,  we  are  making  a  step  toward 
acquiring  the  habit  of  confidence  and 
repose. 

The  simple  admonition  not  to 
worry  is  like  advising  one  not  to  walk 
awkwardly  who  has  never  learned 

41 


WHY  WORRY? 

to  walk  otherwise.  If  we  can  find 
some  of  the  simpler  elements  out  of 
which  worry  is  constructed,  and  can 
learn  to  direct  our  attack  against 
these,  the  proposition  " Don't  worry" 
will  begin  to  assume  a  tangible  form. 

We  can  at  least  go  back  one  step, 
and  realize  that  it  is  by  way  of  the 
unduly  insistent  thought  that  most  of 
these  faulty  mental  habits  become  es- 
tablished. It  might  be  claimed  that 
fear  deserves  first  mention,  but  the 
insistent  thought  in  a  way  includes 
fear,  and  in  many  cases  is  indepen- 
dent of  it. 

The  insistent  thought  magnifies  by 
concentration  of  attention,  and  by 
repetition,  the  origin  of  the  worry.  If 
my  thoughts  dwell  on  my  desire  for 
an  automobile  this  subject  finally  ex- 
cludes all  others,  and  the  automobile 
becomes,  for  the  time  being,  the  most 

42 


ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 

important  thing  in  the  world,  hence 
I  worry.  Into  this  worry  comes  no 
suggestion  of  fear — this  emotion 
would  be  more  appropriate,  perhaps, 
if  I  acquired  the  automobile  and 
attempted  to  run  it.  If,  now,  I 
have  trained  myself  to  concentrate 
my  attention  elsewhere  before  such 
thoughts  become  coercive,  the  auto- 
mobile quickly  assumes  its  proper 
relation  to  other  things,  and  there  is 
no  occasion  for  worry.  This  habit  of 
mind  once  acquired  regarding  the  un- 
essentials  of  life,  it  is  remarkable  how 
quickly  it  adapts  itself  to  really  im- 
portant matters. 

Take  a  somewhat  more  serious 
question.  I  fear  I  may  make  a 
blunder.  If  I  harbor  the  thought,  my 
mind  is  so  filled  with  the  disastrous 
consequences  of  the  possible  blunder 
that  I  finally  either  abandon  the  un- 

43 


WHY  WORRY? 

dertaking  or  approach  it  with  a  trepi- 
dation that  invites  failure.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  have  learned  to  say  that 
even  if  I  make  a  blunder  it  will  only 
add  to  my  experience,  then  apply  my- 
self whole-minded  to  the  task,  I  have 
made  a  direct  attack  on  worry. 

The  qualification  unduly  is  not  to 
be  forgotten ;  a  certain  discrimination 
must  be  exercised  before  entirely  con- 
demning the  insistent  thought.  The 
insistent  thought  that  one's  family 
must  be  fed  is  not  a  morbid  sign.  In 
fact,  he  also  errs  who  can  eliminate 
this  thought  and  enjoy  the  ball  game. 
It  is  not  for  the  deviate  of  this  type 
that  I  am  writing.  Nevertheless,  the 
over-solicitous  victim  of  the  "New 
England  Conscience"  can  almost  af- 
ford to  take  a  few  lessons  from  the 
ne'er-do-weel. 

The  practical  bearing  of  this  at- 

44 


ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 

tempt  to  analyze  worry  is  obvious.  If 
it  is  through  the  insistent  desire  f  or 
an  automobile  that  I  worry,  I  must 
bring  my  training  to  bear,  not  on  the 
worry,  which  is  elusive,  but  on  the 
desire,  which  is  definite.  I  must 
fortify  myself  with  what  philosophy 
I  can  acquire,  and  must  console  my- 
self with  such  compensations  as  my 
situation  may  offer;  and  above  all,  I 
must  get  busy,  and  occupy  hands  and 
brain  with  something  else.  If,  on  my 
travels,  I  worry  over  the  sluggish 
movement  of  the  train,  it  is  because 
of  the  insistent  thought  that  I  must 
arrive  on  time.  In  this  event  I 
should  practice  subduing  the  insistent 
thought,  rather  than  vaguely  direct 
my  efforts  against  the  worry.  In  the 
majority  of  cases  I  can  bring  myself 
to  realize  that  the  question  of  my 
arrival  is  not  vital.  Even  in  case  I 

45 


WHY  WORRY? 

am  missing  an  important  engagement 
I  may  modify  the  dominance  of  the 
thought  by  reflecting  that  I  cannot 
expect  to  be  wholly  immune  from  the 
misfortunes  of  mankind ;  it  is  due  me, 
at  least  once  in  a  lifetime,  to  miss  an 
important  engagement,  —  why  fret 
because  this  happens  to  be  the  ap- 
pointed time?  Why  not  occupy  my 
thoughts  more  profitably  than  in  re- 
hearsing the  varied  features  of  this 
unavoidable  annoyance? 

If  we  fret  about  the  weather  it  is 
because  of  an  insistent  desire  that  the 
weather  shall  conform  to  our  idea  of 
its  seasonableness.  If  we  complain  of 
the  chill  of  May  it  is  not  because  the 
cold  is  really  unbearable,  but  because 
we  wonder  if  spring  will  ever  come. 
If  we  fume  on  a  hot  day  in  July  it  is 
because  the  weather  is  altogether  too 
seasonable  to  suit  us. 

46 


ANALYSIS  OP  WORRY 

We  spend  far  too  much  thought  on 
the  weather,  a  subject  that  really  de- 
serves little  attention  except  by  those 
whose  livelihood  and  safety  depend 
upon  it.  Suppose  a  runaway  passes 
the  window  at  which  we  are  sitting, 
with  collar  off,  handkerchief  to  our 
heated  brow,  squirming  to  escape  our 
moist  and  clinging  garments,  and  be- 
ing generally  miserable.  We  rush  out 
of  doors  to  watch  his  course,  and  for 
the  next  few  minutes  we  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  hot  or  cold,  perspiring 
less  during  our  exertions,  I  strongly 
suspect,  than  we  did  while  sitting  in 
the  chair.  At  all  events,  it  is  obvious 
that  our  thoughts  played  quite  as 
great  a  part  in  our  discomfort  as  did 
the  heat  of  the  day. 

Suppose  now,  instead  of  devoting 
all  our  attention  to  the  weather  we 
should  reason  somewhat  as  follows: 

47 


As  long  as  I  live  on  this  particular 
planet,  I  shall  be  subject  perhaps 
three  days  out  of  four,  to  atmospheric 
conditions  which  do  not  suit  me.  Is 
it  worth  my  while  to  fret  during  those 
three  days  and  to  make  it  up  by  being 
elated  on  the  fourth?  Why  not  oc- 
cupy myself  with  something  else  and 
leave  the  weather  for  those  who  have 
no  other  resource?  Or,  as  someone 
has  said,  why  not  "make  friends  with 
the  weather?"  If  one  will  cultivate 
this  frame  of  mind  he  will  be  sur- 
prised to  find  that  a  certain  physical 
relief  will  follow.  In  the  first  place, 
he  will  lessen  the  excessive  perspira- 
tion which  is  the  invariable  accom- 
paniment of  fret,  and  which  in  its 
turn  produces  more  discomfort  than 
the  heat  itself. 

We  have  selected,  so  far,  the  com- 
paratively  unimportant   sources   of 


ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 

mental  discomfort,  fret,  and  worry. 
The  reader  who  can  truthfully  say 
that  such  annoyances  play  no  part  in 
his  mental  tribulations  may  pass 
them  and  accept  congratulations.  The 
reader  who  cannot  be  thus  con- 
gratulated, but  who  is  impatient  to 
attack  the  major  sources  of  worry, 
must  be  reminded  at  this  point  that  he 
must  practice  on  the  little  worries 
before  he  can  accomplish  anything 
with  the  great.  The  method  is  the 
same.  The  philosophy  that  will  make 
us  content  with  the  weather  will  do 
something  toward  establishing  the 
mental  poise  which  shall  enable  us  to 
withstand  with  comparative  equa- 
nimity the  most  tragic  of  misfortunes 
that  may  fall  to  our  lot. 

To  draw  an  example  from  the  more 
serious  disorders,  let  us  consider  the 
hypochondriac,  who  harbors  the  in- 

4  49 


WHY  WORRY? 

sistent  thought  that  he  must  be  al- 
ways perfectly  well,  that  each  of  his 
sensations  must  conform  to  his  ideal, 
and  that  each  function  must  follow 
regulations  imposed  by  himself.  If 
he  can  learn  to  ignore  this  thought  by 
realizing  that  an  acute  illness  is 
preferable  to  life-long  mental  cap- 
tivity; if  he  can  learn  to  do  what 
others  do,  and  to  concentrate  his 
energies  on  outside  affairs  which  shall 
displace  the  question  of  health ;  if  he 
can  learn  to  say  "What  I  am  doing 
is  more  important  than  how  I  am 
feeling;"  he  will  have  cured  his 
hypochondria. 

In  the  foundation  of  the  structure 
we  are  studying  is  found  exaggerated 
self -consciousness.  Whatever  is  said, 
done,  or  left  undone,  by  others  is 
analyzed  by  the  worrier  with  refer- 
ence to  its  bearing  on  himself.  If 

50 


ANALYSIS  OF  WORRY 

others  are  indifferent  it  depresses 
him,  if  they  appear  interested  they 
have  an  ulterior  motive,  if  they  look 
serious  he  must  have  displeased  them, 
if  they  smile  it  is  because  he  is  ridicu- 
lous. That  they  are  thinking  of  their 
own  affairs  is  the  last  thought  to  enter 
his  mind. 

I  suppose  it  would  be  an  affectation 
for  any  of  us  to  deny  that,  as  far  as 
we  are  concerned,  we  are  the  centre 
of  the  universe.  This  conceit  does  us 
no  harm  so  long  as  we  remember  that 
there  are  as  many  centres  of  the  uni- 
verse as  there  are  people,  cats,  mice 
and  other  thinking  animals.  When  we 
forget  this  our  troubles  begin.  If  I 
enter  a  strange  shop  and  find  they 
desire  security,  need  I  take  this  as  a 
reflection  on  my  credit?  Need  I  ex- 
pect to  be  invited  to  every  entertain- 
ment I  should  like  to  attend,  and  to  be 

51 


WHY  WORRY? 

excused  from  those  that  bore  me,  and 
shall  I  make  no  allowance  for  the  atti- 
tude of  my  host?  Is  it  not  rather 
egotistic  for  me  to  suppose  that 
others  are  vitally  interested  in  the 
fact  that  I  blush,  tremble,  or  am  awk- 
ward f  Why  then  should  I  allow  my 
conduct  to  be  influenced  by  such 
trivial  matters  ? 

The  order  of  training  is,  then,  gen- 
erally, to  modify  our  self-conscious- 
ness by  externalizing  our  thoughts 
and  broadening  our  interests;  speci- 
fically, to  eliminate  the  unduly  in- 
sistent habit  of  thought. 

This  analysis  of  worry  and  allied 
mental  states  may  facilitate  such 
training,  but  the  practical  value  of 
the  suggestions  does  not  depend  upon 
the  acceptance  of  these  theoretical 
considerations. 


52 


V. 

WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

So  much  are  men  enured  in  their  miserable  estate, 
that  no  condition  is  so  poore,  but  they  will  accept; 
so  they  may  continue  in  the  same. 

Florio's  Montaigne. 

"You  may  as  well  be  eaten  by  the 
fishes  as  by  the  worms/'  said  the 
daughter  of  a  naval  commander  to  me 
one  day,  when  discussing  the  perils 
of  the  sea.  Such  philosophy,  applied 
to  each  of  the  vexatious  and  danger- 
ous situations  of  daily  life,  would  go 
far  toward  casting  out  worry. 

We  have  already  referred  to  two 
important  elements  at  the  founda- 
tion, and  in  the  framework,  of  the 
elaborate  superstructures  we  rear 
with  such  material  as  worry,  doubts, 
fears  and  scruples.  The  first  is  exag- 

53 


WHY  WORRY? 

gerated  self -consciousness,  the  second 
the  tendency  to  succumb  to  the  com- 
pelling thought  or  impulse,  tech- 
nically termed  obsession. 

With  regard  to  self -consciousness, 
the  worrier  will  generally  realize  that 
even  as  a  child  he  was  exceptionally 
sensitive  to  criticism,  censure,  ridi- 
cule and  neglect.  He  was  prone  to 
brood  over  his  wrongs,  to  play  the 
martyr,  and  to  suffer  with  peculiar 
keenness  the  "  slings  and  arrows  of 
outrageous  fortune."  I  remember 
once  leaving  the  table  on  account  of 
some  censure  or  careless  remark.  I 
fancied  I  had  thrown  the  whole 
family  into  a  panic  of  contrition.  On 
the  first  opportunity,  I  asked  what 
they  had  said  about  it,  and  was  told 
that  they  apparently  had  not  noticed 
my  departure.  This  salutary  lesson 
prevented  repetition  of  the  act. 

54 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

To  the  self-conscious  person  the] 
mere  entrance  into  a  public  vehicle 
may  prove  an  ordeal.  It  is  hard  for 
him  to  realize  that  the  general  gaze 
has  no  special  relation  to  himself, 
and  that  if  the  gaze  is  prolonged  this 
is  due  to  no  peculiarity  of  his  beyond 
the  blush  or  the  trepidation  that  be- 
trays his  feeling.  If  he  can  acquire 
indifference  to  this  feature  of  his  case, 
through  the  reflection  that  to  others 
it  is  only  a  passing  incident,  the  blush 
and  the  trepidation  will  promptly 
disappear,  and  a  step  will  have  been 
taken  towards  gaining  the  self-con- 
trol for  which  he  aims. 

The  usual  cause  of  stage-fright  is 
exaggerated  self -consciousness.  The 
sufferer  from  stage-fright  can  hardly 
fail  to  be  a  worrier.  A  certain  shy- 
ness, it  would  seem,  may  also  result 
from  too  acute  a  consciousness  of 

65 


WHY  WORRY? 

one's  audience,  as  in  the  case  of 
Tennyson,  whom  Benson  quotes  thus : 

"  I  am  never  the  least  shy  before 
great  men.  Each  of  them  has  a  per- 
sonality for  which  he  or  she  is  re- 
sponsible; but  before  a  crowd  which 
consists  of  many  personalities,  of 
which  I  know  nothing,  I  am  infi- 
nitely shy.  The  great  orator  cares 
nothing  about  all  this.  I  think  of  the 
good  man,  and  the  bad  man,  and  the 
mad  man,  that  may  be  among  them, 
and  can  say  nothing.  He  takes  them 
all  as  one  man.  He  sways  them  as 
one  man."  J 

This,  I  take  it,  hardly  spelled  stage- 
fright.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  im- 
probable that  one  so  sensitive  to 
criticism  meant  to  convey  the  impres- 
sion that  it  was  of  his  audience  alone 
he  thought  in  shrinking  from  the 
effort. 

56 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

It  appears  that  Washington  Irving 
suffered  from  actual  stage-fright. 

In  the  Library  edition  of  Irving 's 
works  appears  the  following  anecdote 
from  the  reminiscences  of  Mrs.  Julia 
Ward  Howe,  then  a  young  woman  of 
twenty-three : 

"I  was  present,  with  other  ladies, 
at  a  public  dinner  given  in  honor  of 
Charles  Dickens  by  prominent  citi- 
zens of  New  York.  The  ladies  were 
not  bidden  to  the  feast,  but  were  al- 
lowed to  occupy  a  small  ante-room 
which,  through  an  open  door,  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  tables.  When 
the  speaking  was  about  to  begin,  a 
message  came  suggesting  that  we  take 
possession  of  some  vacant  seats  at  the 
great  table.  This  we  were  glad  to  do. 
Washington  Irving  was  president  of 
the  evening,  and  upon  him  devolved 
the  duty  of  inaugurating  the  proceed- 

57 


WHY  WORRY? 

ings  by  an  address  of  welcome  to  the 
distinguished  guest.  People  who  sat 
near  me  whispered,  'He'll  break 
down, — he  always  does.7  Mr.  Irving 
rose  and  uttered  a  sentence  or  two. 
His  friends  interrupted  him  by  ap- 
plause, which  was  intended  to  encour- 
age him,  but  which  entirely  overthrew 
his  self-possession.  He  hesitated, 
stammered,  and  sat  down,  saying,  'I 
cannot  go  on.' : 

Cavendish,  the  chemist,  suffered 
from  a  constitutional  shyness  attrib- 
utable only  to  self -consciousness.  He 
is  said  to  have  carried  so  far  his  aver- 
sion to  contact  with  others,  outside  of 
his  colleagues,  that  his  dinner  was 
always  ordered  by  means  of  a  note, 
and  instant  dismissal  awaited  the 
female  domestic  who  should  venture 
within  his  range  of  vision. 

Lombroso  cites,  among  his  "Men 

58 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

of  Genius,"  quite  a  list — Corneille, 
Descartes,  Virgil,  Addison,  La  Fon- 
taine, Dryden,  Manzoni,  and  Newton 
— of  those  who  could  not  express 
themselves  in  public.  Whatever  part 
self -consciousness  played  in  the  indi- 
vidual case,  we  must  class  the  pecu- 
liarity among  the  defects,  not  signs, 
of  genius.  "A  tender  heel  makes  no 
man  an  Achilles. " 

To  the  second  faulty  habit,  obses- 
sion, I  wish  to  devote  special  atten- 
tion. This  word  we  have  ..already 
defined  as  an  unduly  insistent  and 
compulsive  thought,  habit  of  mind,  or 
tendency  to  action.  The  person  so 
burdened  is  said  to  be  obsessed. 

Few  children  are  quite  free  from 
obsession.  Some  must  step  on  stones ; 
others  must  walk  on,  or  avoid,  cracks ; 
some  must  ascend  the  stairs  with  the 

59 


WHY  WORRY? 

right  foot  first ;  many  must  kick  posts 
or  touch  objects  a  certain  number  of 
times.  Some  must  count  the  windows, 
pictures,  and  figures  on  the  wall- 
paper; some  must  bite  the  nails  or 
pull  the  eye-winkers.  Consider  the 
nail-biter.  It  cannot  be  said  that  he 
toils  not,  but  to  what  end?  Merely 
to  gratify  an  obsession.  He  nibbles  a 
little  here  and  a  little  there,  he 
frowns,  elevates  his  elbow,  and  inverts 
his  finger  to  reach  an  otherwise  inac- 
cessible corner.  Does  he  enjoy  it? 
No,  not  exactly;  but  he  would  be 
miserable  if  he  discontinued. 

An  unusual,  but  characteristic  ob- 
session is  told  by  a  lady  in  describing 
her  own  childhood.  She  thought  that 
on  retiring  she  must  touch  nothing 
with  her  hands,  after  she  had  washed 
them,  until  she  touched  the  inside  of 
the  sheets.  In  case  she  failed  she 

60 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

must  return  and  wash  the  hands 
again.  The  resulting  manoeuvres  are 
still  fresh  in  her  mind,  particularly 
when  her  sister  had  preceded  her  to 
bed  and  she  had  to  climb  the  foot- 
board. 

It  is  during  childhood  that  we  form 
most  of  the  automatic  habits  which 
are  to  save  time  and  thought  in  later 
life,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  some 
foolish  habits  creep  in.  As  a  rule, 
children  drop  these  tendencies  at 
need,  just  as  they  drop  the  roles 
assumed  in  play,  though  they  are 
sometimes  so  absorbing  as  to  cause 
inconvenience.  An  interesting  in- 
stance was  that  of  the  boy  who  had  to 
touch  every  one  wearing  anything 
red.  On  one  occasion  his  whole  family 
lost  their  train  because  of  the  preva- 
lence of  this  color  among  those  wait- 
ing in  the  station. 

61 


WHY  WORRY? 

The  longer  these  tendencies  are  re- 
tained in  adult  life,  the  greater  the 
danger  of  their  becoming  coercive; 
and  so  far  as  the  well-established  case 
is  concerned  the  obsessive  act  must  be 
performed,  though  the  business,  so- 
cial, and  political  world  should  come 
to  a  stand-still.  Among  the  stories 
told  in  illustration  of  compulsive  ten- 
dency in  the  great,  may  be  instanced 
the  touching  of  posts,  and  the  placing 
of  a  certain  foot  first,  in  the  case  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  who,  it  appears,  would 
actually  retrace  his  steps  and  repeat 
the  act  which  failed  to  satisfy  his  re- 
quirements, with  the  air  of  one  with 
something  off  his  mind. 

A  child  who  must  kick  posts  is 
father  to  the  man  who  cannot  eat  an 
egg  which  has  been  boiled  either  more 
or  less  than  four  minutes ;  who  cannot 
work  without  absolute  silence;  who 

62 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

cannot  sleep  if  steam-pipes  crackle; 
and  who  must  straighten  out  all  the 
tangles  of  his  life,  past,  present,  and 
future,  before  he  can  close  his  eyes  in 
slumber  or  take  a  vacation.  The  boy 
Carlyle,  proud,  shy,  sensitive,  and 
pugnacious,  was  father  to  the  man 
who  made  war  upon  the  neighbor's 
poultry,  and  had  a  room,  proof 
against  sound,  specially  constructed 
for  his  literary  labors. 

The  passive  obsessions  are  pecu- 
liarly provocative  of  worry.  Such 
are  extreme  aversions  to  certain 
animals,  foods,  smells,  sounds,  and 
sights,  or  insistent  discomfort  if  af- 
fairs are  not  ordered  to  our  liking. 
A  gentleman  once  told  me  that  at 
the  concert  he  did  not  mind  if  his 
neighbor  followed  the  score,  but  when 
he  consulted  his  programme  during 

63 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  performance  it  distressed  him 
greatly. 

Such  instances  illustrate  the  fact 
that  when  our  obsessions  rule  us  it  is 
not  the  noise  or  the  sight,  but  our  idea 
of  the  fitness  of  things,  that  deter- 
mines the  degree  of  our  annoyance. 
A  person  who  cannot  endure  the 
crackling  of  the  steam-pipe  can  listen 
with  pleasure  to  the  crackling  of  an 
open  fire  or  the  noise  of  a  running 
brook. 

It  is  said  that  the  sensitive  and 
emotional  Erasmus  had  so  delicate  a 
digestion  that  he  could  neither  eat 
fish  nor  endure  the  smell  of  it ;  but  we 
are  led  to  suspect  that  obsession 
played  a  part  in  his  troubles  when  we 
further  learn  that  he  could  not  bear 
an  iron  stove  in  the  room  in  which  he 
worked,  but  had  to  have  either  a 
porcelain  stove  or  an  open  fire. 

64 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

If  we  can  trust  the  sources  from 
which  Charles  Reade  drew  his  deduc- 
tions regarding  the  character  of  the 
parental  stock,  Erasmus  came  fairly 
by  his  sensitive  disposition.  In 1 1  The 
Cloister  and  the  Hearth"  we  find  the 
father  of  Erasmus,  fleeing  from  his 
native  land,  in  fear  of  his  life  on  ac- 
count of  a  crime  he  thought  he  had 
committed,  frozen,  famished  and  ex- 
hausted, unable  to  enter  the  door  of  a 
friendly  inn  on  account  of  his  aver- 
sion to  the  issuing  odors.  Forced  by 
his  sufferings  at  last  to  enter  the  inn, 
he  visits  each  corner  in  turn,  analyz- 
ing its  peculiar  smell  and  choosing 
finally  the  one  which  seems  to  him  the 
least  obnoxious. 

I  have  heard  somewhere,  but  can- 
not place,  the  story  of  a  prominent 
writer  who  was  so  disturbed  by  the 
mechanical  lawn-mower  of  his  neigh- 

5  65 


WHY  WORRY? 

bor  that  he  insisted  upon  the  privilege 
of  defraying  the  expense  of  its  re- 
placement by  the  scythe. 

Peculiar  sensitiveness  to  sights, 
sounds  and  smells  seems  to  be  a  com- 
mon attribute  of  genius.  This  sort  of 
sensitiveness  has  even  been  credited 
with  being  the  main-spring  of  genius, 
but  it  is  improbable  that  the  curbing 
of  such  aversions  would  in  any  way 
endanger  it.  However  this  may  be, 
such  supersensitiveness  ill  becomes 
the  rest  of  us,  and  these  extreme  aver- 
sions surely  clog,  rather  than  acceler- 
ate, our  efforts. 

The  natural  tendency  of  the  healthy 
mind  is  to  accustom  itself  to  new 
sensations,  as  the  ring  on  the  finger, 
or  the  spectacles  on  the  nose.  The 
obsessive  individual  resists  this  ten- 
dency; he  starts  with  the  fixed  idea 

66 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

that  he  cannot  stand  the  annoyance, 
his  resentment  increases,  and  his 
sensations  become  more,  instead  of 
less,  acute.  His  reaction  to  criticism, 
slight,  and  ridicule  is  similar;  he  is 
prepared  to  start,  blush,  and  show 
anger  on  moderate  provocation,  and 
often  can  reproduce  both  the  sen- 
sation and  its  accompanying  phy- 
sical signs  by  merely  recalling  the 
circumstance. 

The  passive  as  well  as  the  active 
obsessions  can  be  overcome  by  culti- 
vating the  commonplace,  or  average 
normal,  attitude,  and  resolving  grad- 
ually to  accustom  one's  self  to  the 
disagreeable.  This  change  of  atti- 
tude can  be  made  in  adult  life  as  well 
as  in  youth.  "You  cannot  teach  an 
old  dog  new  tricks,"  we  are  told. 
The  reason  is  not  that  the  old  dog 
cannot  learn  them,  but  that  he  does 

67 


WHY  WORRY? 

not  want  to.  I  met  in  Germany  a 
British  matron  who  was  obsessed 
with  the  belief  that  she  could  not 
learn  the  language.  At  the  end  of 
four  years*  sojourn  she  entered  a 
store  and  asked  the  price  of  an  article. 

"Four  marks,"  was  the  answer. 

"How  much  in  English  money?" 
she  inquired. 

"Why,  madam,  a  mark  is  the  same 
as  a  shilling." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  that ; 
how  much  is  it  in  English?" 

"Four  shillings." 

"Ah,  quite  so;  you  might  have  told 
me  at  once." 

Experience  has  shown  that  no  time 
in  life  precludes  the  acquirement  of 
new  knowledge  and  new  habits  by  one 
who  thinks  it  worth  while  to  make  the 
attempt.  The  elderly  person  will  be 
surprised  at  his  progress  if  he  will 

68 


W0&KY  AND 

fcring  to  bear  upon  a  new  subject  a 
mind  free  from  doubts  of  its'  useful- 
ness, doubts  of  his  Own  ability,  worry 
lest  ne'  is  wasting  valuable  time,- 
regrets  for  the  past  and  plans  for  the 
future. 

It  is  not  always  possible  to  say  just 
where  useful  habit  merges  into  obses- 
sion. A  certain  individual,  we  will 
say,  invariably  puts  on  the  left  shoe 
before  the  right.  This  is  a  useful 
habit,  fixed  by  constant  repetition, 
useful  because  it  relieves  the  brain  of 
conscious  effort.  But  suppose  he  de- 
cides some  morning  to  put  on  the 
right  shoe  before  the  left;  this  new 
order  so  offends  his  sense  of  the  fit- 
ness of  things  that  he  finds  it  hard  to 
proceed ;  if  he  perseveres,  his  feet  fee] 
wrong  to  him;  the  discomfort  grows 
until  finally  he  is  impelled  to  remove 
the  shoes  and  replace  them  in  the 

69 


WHY  WORRY? 

usual  order.  In  this  case  an  act  which 
started  as  a  useful  habit  has  been  re- 
placed by  an  obsession. 

Suppose,  again,  a  person  obsessed 
by  the  fear  of  poison  is  prevented 
from  washing  his  hands  before  eat- 
ing. He  sits  down,  perhaps,  fully 
intending  to  proceed  as  if  nothing  had 
happened,  but  the  thought  occurs  to 
him  that  he  may  have  touched  some- 
thing poisonous,  though  his  reason 
tells  him  this  is  most  improbable.  He 
reviews  the  events  of  the  day  and  can 
find  no  suggestion  of  poison ;  still  the 
thought  of  poison  obtrudes  itself,  and 
he  finds  it  impossible  to  put  anything 
which  he  touches  into  his  mouth.  He 
next  wonders  if  he  has  not  already 
put  something  into  his  mouth.  This 
thought  produces  a  mental  panic,  the 
blood  mounts  to  his  head,  he  becomes 
incapable  of  coherent  thought  or 

70 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

speech,  and  the  task  of  finishing  his 
dinner  would  now  be  beyond  his 
power  even  if  he  had  not  lost  all  taste 
for  it. 

Such  illustrations  of  obsession  in 
daily  life,  by  no  means  rare,  could  be 
multiplied  indefinitely,  and  may  be 
perhaps  better  appreciated  than  the 
text-book  illustration  of  the  man  who 
neglected  to  flick  off  with  his  whip  a 
certain  stone  from  the  top  of  a  wall, 
and  who  could  not  sleep  until  he  had 
returned  to  the  spot  and  performed 
the  act. 

Suppose  a  man  has  always  worn 
high  boots  and  is  accustomed  to  a  feel- 
ing of  warmth  about  the  ankles.  The 
desire  for  warm  ankles  may  finally 
so  dominate  him  that  he  not  only  can- 
not wear  low  shoes  in  mid-summer, 
but  he  cannot  wear  slippers,  even  in 
a  warm  room;  and  finally,  perhaps, 

71 


WHY  WORRY? 

finds  that  he  must  wear  woollen  socks 
to  bed.  By  this  time  the  desire  for  a 
certain  sensation  is  in  a  fair  way  to 
become  an  obsession.  When  you  as- 
sure him  that  many  wear  low  shoes 
throughout  the  winter,  he  asks  if 
their  ankles  really  feel  warm.  That  is 
not  the  question.  The  question  is,  can 
one  accustom  himself  to  the  ankles 
feeling  cool,  just  as  he  accustoms  him- 
self to  his  face  feeling  cool.  If  he 
can,  he  has  conquered  a  sensory  obses- 
sion, and  has  made  a  step  toward  fit- 
ting himself  to  meet  more  serious 
vicissitudes  with  equanimity. 

Similar  instances  can  be  adduced 
in  all  realms  of  sensation,  both  gen- 
eral and  special.  One  person  cannot 
bear  the  light,  and  wears  blue  glasses ; 
another  cannot  breathe  out-door  air, 
and  wears  a  respirator ;  another  can- 

72 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

not  bear  to  see  a  person  rock  or  to 
hear  a  person  drum  on  the  table. 

If  a  family  or  circle  of  friends  is  so 
constituted  that  some  are  obsessed  to 
do  certain  things  and  others  are  ob- 
sessed not  to  stand  them  the  founda- 
tion is  laid  for  a  degree  of  irritability 
inconsistent  with  mental  health.  Mrs. 
X.  simply  cannot  stand  hearing 
Mr.  X.  tap  the  floor,  and  if  he  con- 
tinues, her  discomfort  becomes  acute ; 
the  sound  so  dominates  her  that  she 
can  think  of  nothing  else  and  can  ac- 
complish nothing  until  the  sound  is 
stopped.  She  can  stand  anything  but 
that.  The  daughter,  Miss  X.,  hardly 
hears  the  tapping,  and  is  irritated  and 
impatient  to  the  last  degree  on  ac- 
count of  her  mother's  " silly"  notion. 
What  Miss  X.  simply  cannot  bear  is 
hearing  her  brother  continually  clear 
his  throat,  and  if  he  does  not  stop  she 

73 


WHY  WORRY? 

must  leave  the  room  or  "go  wild." 
Unfortunately,  meantime,  Mr.  X.  is 
so  obsessed  to  tap  the  floor  that  he 
cannot  follow  his  task  without  it,  and 
Master  X.  must  clear  his  throat  every 
few  moments  with  a  peculiar  note  be- 
cause he  "has  catarrh." 

Here  we  have  a  common  starting- 
point  for  family  discomfort,  and  here 
we  have  a  clue  to  the  advice  of  the 
physician  who  advises  isolation  as  a 
step  toward  the  cure  of  the  member 
of  the  family  who  first  breaks  down, 
not  simply  under  the  stress  of  occupa- 
tion, but  of  occupation  plus  the  wear 
and  tear  of  minor  but  constant 
sources  of  irritation. 

It  is  said  that  the  victim  of  jiu 
jitsu,  by  breaking  one  hold,  places 
himself  in  the  greater  danger  from 
the  next.  Similarly,  after  having 

74 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

conquered  a  few  obsessions,  one  is 
overwhelmed  with  the  obsession  to  set 
every  one  straight.  Soukanhoff!  was 
right  in  warning  the  obsessive  to  be- 
ware of  pedantry. 

The  question  here  presents  itself 
whether  this  line  of  thought  does  not 
foster,  rather  than  lessen,  the  pedan- 
try and  the  self -study  which  it  is 
intended  to  combat.  "Why  not  simply 
drop  the  worry  and  the  doubt  without 
further  argument?  The  difficulty  is 
that  the  mental  processes  of  the  over- 
scrupulous person  are  such  that  he 
cannot  summarily  drop  a  habit  of 
thought.  He  must  reason  himself  out 
of  it.  There  is  no  limit  to  his  ability 
if  properly  directed ;  he  can  gradually 
modify  all  his  faulty  tendencies,  and 
may  even  finally  acquire  the  habit  of 
automatically  dismissing  worry,  but 
it  would  be  too  much  to  expect  that  he 

75 


WHY  WORRY? 

suddenly  change  his  very  nature  at 
command. 

SoukanhofTs  description  of  obses- 
sives  is  peculiarly  apt:  "over-scrupu- 
lous, disquieted  over  trifles,  indecisive 
in  action,  and  anxious  about  their 
affairs.  They  are  given  early  to  mor- 
bid introspection,  and  are  easily  wor- 
ried about  their  own  indispositions 
or  the  illnesses  of  their  friends.  They 
are  often  timorous  and  apprehensive, 
and  prone  to  pedantism.  The  moral 
sentiments  are  pronounced  in  most 
cases,  and  if  they  are,  as  a  rule,  some- 
what exigent  and  egotistic,  they  have 
a  lively  sense  of  their  own  defects." 

A  common  obsession  is  the  compul- 
sion to  dwell  upon  the  past,  to  repro- 
duce the  circumstances,  and  painfully 
to  retrace  the  steps  which  we  took  in 
coming  to  an  erroneous  decision 
which  led  to  a  foolish,  unnecessary,  or 

76 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

perhaps  even  a  wrong  decision.  One 
of  my  earliest  impressions  in  golf  was 
the  remark  of  a  veteran  who  was  good 
enough  to  make  a  round  with  me.  l  i  If 
I  had  only  approached  better,  I 
should  have  made  that  hole  in  five," 
I  remarked,  after  taking  seven 
strokes  for  a  hole. 

"Perhaps  not/'  he  replied ;  "if  you 
had  approached  better,  perhaps  you 
would  have  putted  worse  and  taken 
eight  strokes  for  the  hole.  At  all 
events,  that  hole  is  ancient  history 
now,  and  you  will  play  this  one  better 
if  you  leave  that  one  alone." 

He  little  realized  how  many  times 
his  advice  would  recur  to  me  else- 
where than  on  the  links.  Retrospec- 
tive worry  can  be  absolutely  elimin- 
ated from  the  most  obsessive  mind 
by  the  practice  of  the  veteran's 
philosophy. 

77 


Mercier  says  the  greatest  intel- 
lectual gift  is  the  ability  to  forget. 

The  conscientious  self  -  analyst 
spends  too  much  time  in  weighing  his 
ability  or  inability  to  perform  some 
task.  Between  his  fear,  his  worry 
over  the  past,  and  his  indecision 
whether  the  task  should  be  attempted, 
he  starts  with  an  overwhelming 
handicap.  If  he  learns  to  say,  ' i  Other 
people  fail ;  it  will  not  matter  if  I  do 
this  time,"  he  will  find  the  task  al- 
ready half  accomplished. 

The  Rev.  Francis  Tiffany  has  ob- 
served that  if  a  ship  could  think,  and 
should  imagine  itself  submerged  by 
all  the  waves  between  here  and 
Europe,  it  would  dread  to  leave  its 
moorings ;  but  in  reality  it  has  to  meet 
but  one  wave  at  a  time. 

The  tendency  of  the  average  Amer- 
ican in  this  bustling  age,  whether  he 

78 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

is  obsessive  or  not,  is  to  live  at  least 
several  hours  in  advance.  On  the 
train  he  takes  no  comfort  and  makes 
no  observations,  for  his  mind  is  upon 
his  destination  rather  than  on  his 
journey. 

Though  the  immediate  object  of 
these  chapters  is  the  promotion  of  the 
mental,  and  indirectly  the  physical, 
health  of  the  individual,  I  cannot  for- 
bear referring  to  the  effect  of  this 
training  on  the  position  of  the  indi- 
vidual in  society  and  his  relation 
toward  his  surroundings. 

The  endeavor  to  overcome  obses- 
sions is  likely  to  be  ignored  by  two 
classes:  the  self -centered  individuals 
who  see  no  reason  for  learning  what 
they  do  not  want  to  learn,  and  the 
individuals  who  have  no  time  for,  or 
interest  in,  self -training  because  of 

79 


WHY  WORRY? 

absorption  in  subjects  of  wider  rela- 
tion, as  art,  or  science,  or  reform.  The 
philosophy  of  Haeckel  applies  to 
both: 

"Man  belongs  to  the  social  verte- 
brates, and  has,  therefore,  like  all 
social  animals,  two  sets  of  duties — 
first  to  himself,  and  secondly  to  the 
society  to  which  he  belongs.  The 
former  are  the  behests  of  self-love,  or 
egoism,  the  latter  love  for  one's  fel- 
lows, or  altruism.  The  two  sets  of 
precepts  are  equally  just,  equally 
natural,  and  equally  indispensable. 
If  a  man  desires  to  have  the  advan- 
tage of  living  in  an  organized  com- 
munity, he  has  to  consult  not  only  his 
own  fortune,  but  also  that  of  the  so- 
ciety, and  of  the ' neighbors'  who  form 
the  society.  He  must  realize  that  its 
prosperity  is  his  own  prosperity,  and 

80 


WORRY  AND  OBSESSION 

that  it  cannot  suffer  without  his  own 
injury." 

The  individual  who  is  ruled  by  his 
obsessions  not  only  paves  the  way  for 
needless  and  ultimate  breakdown,  but 
is  in  danger  of  gradually  narrowing 
his  field  of  usefulness  and  pleasure 
until  he  is  in  little  better  case  thar 
Simeon  Stylites,  who  spent  nearly 
half  a  century  on  the  top  of  a  monu- 
ment. Nor  has  he  even  Simeon's  con- 
solation that  he  could  come  down  if  he 
chose;  for  it  seems  that  the  authori- 
ties sent  messengers  demanding  his 
return,  with  orders  to  let  him  stay  if 
he  showed  willingness  to  come  down 
— and  he  stayed. 


81 


VI. 

THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

Jatgeir.  I  needed  sorrow;  others  there  may  be 
who  need  faith,  or  joy — or  doubt 

King    Skule.      Doubt   as    well? 

Jatgeir.  Ay;  but  then  must  the  doubter  be  strong 
and  sound. 

King  Skule.  And  whom  call  you  the  unsound 
doubter  T 

Jatgeir.     He  who  doubts  of  his  own  doubt. 

King  Skule  (slowly).     That  methinks  were  death. 

Jatgeir.    'T  is  worse;  't  is  neither  day  nor  night. 

King  Skule  (quickly,  as  if  shaking  off  hia 
thoughts).  Where  are  my  weapons?  I  will  fight 
and  act,  not  think. 

IBSEN:   The  Pretenders,  Act  iv. 

A  GENTLEMAN  once  told  me  that  he 
rarely  passed  another  in  the  street 
without  wondering  if  he  had  not  ac- 
costed him  in  an  improper  manner. 
He  knew  very  well  that  he  had  not, 
but  the  more  he  dwelt  upon  the  possi- 
bility, the  more  doubtful  he  became, 
until  the  impulse  to  settle  the  question 

82 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

became  so  strong  that  he  would  re- 
trace his  steps  and  inquire.  He  asked 
if  nux  vomica  would  help  this 
trouble !  I  told  him  he  needed  mental 
training. 

"I  have  tried  that,"  he  answered. 
"I  keep  saying  to  myself,  'I  will  not 
think  of  it,'  but  it  is  no  use ;  my  head 
becomes  hot,  my  sight  blurred,  my 
thoughts  confused,  and  the  only  relief 
I  find  is  to  settle  the  question." 

I  tried  to  point  out  the  direction  in 
which  he  was  tending,  and  told  him 
he  must  remind  himself  that  even  if 
he  had  accosted  another  improperly, 
it  was  a  trifling  matter  compared  to 
the  injury  to  himself  of  giving  way 
to  this  compulsion ;  moreover,  the  im- 
pression he  would  make  upon  the 
other  by  going  back  would  be  even 
worse  than  that  of  having  so  accosted 
him ;  and,  finally,  he  must  dwell  upon 

83 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  probability  that  he  had  not  of- 
fended the  man,  instead  of  the  possi- 
bility that  he  had.  Having  pursued 
this  line  of  thought,  he  must  force 
himself  to  think  of  something  else  un- 
til the  besetting  impulse  was  obliter- 
ated. I  suggested  that  if  a  baseball 
player  should  become  incapacitated 
for  the  game,  he  would  not  lessen  his 
disappointment  by  reiterating,  "I 
will  not  think  of  baseball,"  but  if  he 
persistently  turned  his  thoughts  and 
his  practice  to  billiards  he  might  in 
time  forget  baseball. 

"I  never  played  baseball,"  he  re- 
plied, "and  don't  even  know  the 
rules." 

This  represents  an  extreme  case  of 
" doubting  folly"  a  case  in  which  the 
victim  could  no  longer  concentrate  his 
thoughts  on  the  simplest  proposition 


84 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

outside  the  narrow  circle  to  which  his 
doubts  had  restricted  him. 

If  we  once  allow  ourselves  to  won- 
der whether  we  have  turned  off  the 
water,  enclosed  the  check,  or  mailed 
the  letter,  it  is  but  a  step  to  an  un- 
comfortable frame  of  mind  which  can 
be  relieved  only  by  investigating  the 
matter.  This  compulsion  once  ac- 
ceded to,  it  becomes  more  and  more 
easy  to  succumb.  The  next  step  is  to 
blur,  by  constant  repetition,  the  men- 
tal image  of  the  act.  In  extreme 
cases  the  doubter,  after  turning  the 
gas  on  and  off  a  dozen  times,  is  finally 
in  doubt  whether  he  can  trust  his  own 
senses.  A  certain  officer  in  a  bank 
never  succeeded  in  reaching  home 
after  closing  hours  without  returning 
to  try  the  door  of  the  bank.  Upon 
finding  it  locked,  he  would  unlock  it 
and  disappear  within,  to  open  the 

85 


WHY  WORRY? 

vault,  inspect  the  securities,  and  lock 
them  up  again.  I  once  saw  a  victim 
of  this  form  of  doubt  spend  at  least 
ten  minutes  in  writing  a  check,  and 
ten  minutes  more  inspecting  it,  and, 
after  all,  he  had  spelled  his  own  name 
wrong ! 

Constant  supervision  only  impairs 
acts  which  should  have  become  auto- 
matic. We  have  all  heard  of  the 
centipede  who  could  no  longer  pro- 
ceed upon  his  journey  when  it  oc- 
curred to  him  to  question  which  foot 
he  should  next  advance. 

To  other  doubts  are  often  added  the 
doubt  of  one's  own  mental  balance; 
but  it  is  a  long  step  from  these  faulty 
habits  of  mind  to  real  mental  un- 
balance, which  involves  an  inability 
to  plan  and  carry  out  a  line  of  con- 
duct consistent  with  one's  station. 

It  took  a  young  man  at  least  fifteen 

86 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

minutes,  in  my  presence,  to  button  his 
waistcoat.  He  felt  the  lower  button 
to  reassure  himself,  then  proceeded  to 
the  next.  He  then  returned  to  the 
lower  one,  either  distrusting  his 
previous  observation,  or  fearing  it 
had  become  unbuttoned.  He  then 
held  the  lower  two  with  one  hand 
while  he  buttoned  the  third  with  the 
other.  When  this  point  was  reached 
he  called  his  sight  to  the  aid  of  his 
feeling,  and  glued  his  eyes  to  the 
lower  while  he  buttoned  the  upper, 
unbuttoning  many  meantime,  to  as- 
sure himself  that  he  had  buttoned 
them.  This  young  man  said  he  would 
sometimes  stop  on  his  way  to  the  store 
in  doubt  whether  he  was  on  the  right 
street,  a  doubt  not  quieted  either  by 
reading  the  sign  or  by  asking  a 
stranger,  because  the  doubt  would  ob- 
trude itself  whether  he  could  trust  his 

87 


WHY  WORRY? 

sight  and  his  hearing,  indeed,  whether 
he  was  really  there  or  dreaming. 
Even  this  victim  of  extreme  doubting 
folly  conducted  his  business  success- 
fully so  long  as  I  knew  him,  and  so 
comported  himself  in  general  as  to 
attract  no  further  comment  than  that 
he  was  "fussy." 

These  doubts  lead  to  chronic  inde- 
cision. How  often,  in  deciding  which 
of  two  tasks  to  take  up,  we  waste  the 
time  which  would  have  sufficed  for 
the  accomplishment  of  one,  if  not 
both. 

The  doubt  and  the  indecision  result 
directly  from  over-conscientiousness. 
It  is  because  of  an  undue  anxiety  to 
do  the  right  thing,  even  in  trivial 
matters,  that  the  doubter  ponders  in- 
definitely over  the  proper  sequence  of 
two  equally  important  (or  unimpor- 
tant) tasks.  In  the  majority  of  in- 

88 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

stances  it  is  the  right  thing  for  him 
to  pounce  upon  either.  If  he  pounces 
upon  the  wrong  one,  and  completes  it 
without  misgiving,  he  has  at  least 
accomplished  something  in  the  way  of 
mental  training.  The  chances  are, 
moreover,  that  the  harm  done  by  do- 
ing the  wrong  thing  first  was  not  to 
be  compared  to  the  harm  of  giving 
way  to  his  doubt,  and  either  drifting 
into  a  state  of  ineffective  revery  or 
fretting  himself  into  a  frenzy  of 
anxious  uncertainty. 

A  gentleman  once  told  me  that  after 
mailing  a  letter  he  would  often  linger 
about  the  box  until  the  postman  ar- 
rived, and  ask  permission  to  inspect 
his  letter,  ostensibly  to  see  if  he  had 
put  on  the  stamp,  but  in  fact  to  reas- 
sure himself  that  he  had  really  mailed 
the  missive,  although  he  knew  per- 
fectly well  that  he  had  done  so.  The 

89 


WHY  WORRY? 

life  of  the  chronic  doubter  is  full  of 
these  small  deceits,  though  in  most 
matters  such  persons  are  exception- 
ally conscientious. 

This  form  of  over-solicitude  is 
peculiarly  liable  to  attack  those  in 
whose  hands  are  important  affairs  af- 
fecting the  finances,  the  lives,  or  the 
health  of  others.  I  have  known  more 
than  one  case  of  the  abandonment  of 
a  chosen  occupation  on  account  of  the 
constant  anxiety  entailed  by  doubts 
of  this  nature.  Nor  are  these  doubts 
limited  to  the  question  whether  one 
has  done  or  left  undone  some  par- 
ticular act.  An  equally  insistent 
doubt  is  that  regarding  one's  general 
fitness  for  the  undertaking.  The 
doubter  may  spend  upon  this  ques- 
tion more  time  than  it  would  take 
to  acquire  the  needed  facility  and 
experience. 

90 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

Some  one  has  said  there  are  two 
things  that  no  one  should  worry 
about:  first,  the  thing  that  can't  be 
helped;  second,  the  thing  that  can. 
This  is  peculiarly  true  of  the  former. 

Reflection  upon  the  past  is  wise; 
solicitude  concerning  it  is  an  anach- 
ronism. Suppose  one  has  accepted 
a  certain  position  and  finds  himself 
in  doubt  of  his  fitness  for  that  posi- 
tion. Nothing  can  be  more  important 
than  for  him  to  decide  upon  his  next 
line  of  conduct.  Shall  he  resign  or 
continue?  Is  he  fit  for  the  position, 
or,  if  not,  can  he  acquire  the  fitness 
without  detriment  to  the  office? 
These  are  legitimate  doubts.  But  the 
doubter  who  finds  himself  in  this  pre- 
dicament adds  to  these  legitimate 
doubts  the  question,  "  Ought  I  to  have 
accepted  the  office?"  This  is  the 
doubt  he  must  learn  to  eliminate.  He 

91 


WHY  WORRY? 

must  remind  himself  that  he  has  ac- 
cepted the  position,  whether  rightly 
or  wrongly,  and  that  the  acceptance 
is  ancient  history.  The  question  what 
shall  he  do  next  is  sufficiently  weighty 
to  occupy  all  his  attention  without 
loading  his  mind  with  anxious  doubts 
regarding  the  irrevocable  past. 

Suppose,  in  fact,  the  doubter  has 
made  a  mistake ;  how  shall  he  banish 
the  worry?  By  reminding  himself 
that  others  have  made  mistakes,  why 
should  not  he,  and  that  it  is  somewhat 
egotistic  on  his  part  to  insist  that, 
whatever  others  may  do,  lie  must  do 
everything  right.  If  this  line  of 
reasoning  fails  to  console  him,  let  him 
think  of  the  greater  mistakes  he 
might  have  made.  A  financial  mag- 
nate was  once  asked  how  he  succeeded 
in  keeping  his  mind  free  from  worry. 
He  replied,  by  contemplating  the  two 

92 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

worst  things  that  could  happen  to 
him :  losing  all  his  property  and  going 
to  jail.  He  had  learned  the  lesson 
that  one  thought  can  ~be  driven  out 
only  by  another. 

With  regard  to  immediate  doubts. 
If  the  over-scrupulous  business  or 
professional  man,  worn  out  after  an 
exacting  day's  work,  will  stop  and 
reflect,  he  will  realize  that  much  of  his 
exhaustion  is  due  to  his  having  filled 
the  day  with  such  doubts  as  whether 
he  is  doing  the  wrong  thing,  or  the 
right  thing  at  the  wrong  time, 
whether  he  or  someone  else  will  miss 
an  appointment  or  fail  to  meet  obli- 
gations, and  whether  he  or  his  assist- 
ants may  make  blunders. 

Let  him  resolve  some  morning  that 
he  will  proceed  that  day  from  task  to 
task  without  allowing  such  thoughts 
to  intrude.  If  he  does  so  he  will  find 

93 


WHY  WORRY? 

that  he  has  succeeded  in  his  work  at 
least  as  well  as  usual,  and  that  he  is 
comparatively  fresh  in  the  evening. 
Why  not  try  this  every  day  ? 

So  far  we  have  only  considered  the 
most  obvious  and  simple  among  the 
evidences  of  doubting  folly.  A  still 
more  obstinate  tendency  of  the 
doubter  is  the  insistent  habit  inter- 
minably to  argue  over  the  simplest 
proposition,  particularly  regarding 
matters  pertaining  to  the  health,  com- 
fort, and  life  of  the  individual  him- 
self. A  certain  patient,  of  this  type, 
attempts  to  describe  to  his  physician 
a  peculiar,  hitherto  undescribed,  and 
even  now  indescribable  sensation 
' l  through  his  right  lung. ' '  He  traces 
this  sensation  to  what  he  believes  to 
have  been  the  absorption  of  a  poison 
some  years  ago.  His  line  of  reason- 

04 


ing  is  somewhat  as  follows:  1.  The 
drug  was  a  poison.  2.  If  he  absorbed 
it  he  must  have  been  poisoned.  3.  If 
he  was  poisoned  then,  he  is  poisoned 
now.  4.  There  is  no  proof  that  such 
a  poison  cannot  produce  such  a  sensa- 
tion. 5.  He  has  the  sensation.  Con- 
clusion :  He  is  suffering  from  poison. 
In  support  of  this  proposition  he  will 
spend  hours  with  anyone  who  will 
listen.  The  physician  who  allows 
himself  to  be  drawn  into  the  contro- 
versy speedily  finds  himself,  instead 
of  giving  advice  to  listening  ears,  in- 
Tolved  in  a  battle  of  wits  in  which  he 
is  quite  likely  to  come  off  second  best. 
He  assures  the  patient,  for  example, 
that,  as  far  as  scientific  methods  can 
establish  the  fact,  the  lung  is  sound. 
"'But  has  science  established  every- 
thing? And  if  it  had,  is  such  nega- 
tive evidence  to  be  weighed  against 

95 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  positive  evidence  of  the  sensation 
in  my  lung?  ' 

"But  the  sensation  may  not  be  in 
your  lung." 

"Can  you  prove  that  it  is  not  in  my 
lung  ?  ' '  Folly  scores ! 

On  being  urged  to  direct  his  atten- 
tion to  some  other  part  of  his  body, 
he  promptly  inquires, 

"How  can  I  direct  my  thoughts 
elsewhere,  when  the  sensation  is  there 
to  occupy  my  attention  ? ' '  Obviously 
he  can  not  without  changing  his  men- 
tal attitude,  so  folly  scores  again. 

He  is  assured  that  if  the  poison  had 
been  absorbed  the  effects  would  have 
passed  away  long  before  this  time. 

"But  do  the  effects  of  poison 
always  pass  away?  And  can  you 
prove  that  they  have  passed  away  in 
my  case?  Is  not  the  sensation  posi- 
tive evidence,  since  you  have  allowed 

96 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

that  you  cannot  prove  that  the  sensa- 
tion does  not  come  from  the  poison  ?" 

Folly  scores  again,  but  the  victory 
is  an  empty  one.  The  vicious  circle 
continues:  Attention  magnifies  sen- 
sation—  sensation  produces  fear  — 
fear  increases  attention ;  and  through- 
out runs  the  insistent  thought  that 
his  sensations  shall  conform  to  his 
ideal. 

If  the  discussion  of  such  compara- 
tively tangible  matters  can  occupy  a 
large  part  of  one's  attention,  imagine 
the  result  of  the  insistent  desire,  on 
the  part  of  the  doubter,  to  solve  such 
problems  as  "What  is  thought?" 
"What  is  existence?" 

If  the  windings  of  this  intellectual 
labyrinth  have  not  too  far  involved 
us,  we  have  only  to  recognize  the 
futility  of  such  arguments,  and  exer- 
cise our  will-power  in  the  right  direc- 

7  97 


WHY  WORRY  r 

tion.  If  we  can  bring  ourselves  to 
take  the  initiative,  it  is  as  easy  to  step 
out  of  the  vicious  circle,  as  for  the 
squirrel  to  leave  his  wheel.  But  un- 
less we  grasp  the  logic  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  take  this  initiative,  no 
amount  of  abuse,  persuasion,  or  ridi- 
cule will  effect  our  freedom. 

A  word  may  be  in  place  regard- 
ing the  anthropological  status  of 
the  doubting  folly  and  allied  mental 
states.  Men  of  genius  have  suffered 
from  them  all.  A  long  list  may 
be  found  in  Lombroso's  "Man  of 
Genius."  Under  folie  du  doute  we 
find,  for  example,  Tolstoi,  Manzoni, 
Flaubert  and  Amiel. 

Lombroso  regards  genius  as  degen- 
erative, and  places  among  the  signs  of 
degeneration,  deviations  from  the 
average  normal,  whether  physical  or 

98 


THE  DOUBTING  FOLLY 

mental.  This  plan  has  been  quite, 
generally  followed.  The  nomencla- 
ture seems  to  me  unfortunate  and 
hardly  justified  by  the  facts.  I  can 
think  of  no  more  potent  objection  to 
such  inclusive  use  of  the  term  degen- 
erate, than  the  fact  that  Lombroso 
includes,  under  the  signs  of  degenera- 
tion, the  enormous  development  of 
the  cerebral  speech-area  in  the  case  of 
an  accomplished  orator.  If  such  evo- 
lutional spurts  are  to  be  deemed  de- 
generative, the  fate  of  the  four-leaved 
clover  is  sealed. 

The  application  of  the  term  degen- 
eration may  be,  and  should  be,  it 
seems  to  me,  limited  to  the  signs, 
whether  physical  or  mental,  which  in- 
dicate an  obviously  downward  ten- 
dency. I  have  elsewhere  suggested, 
and  the  suggestion  has  already  found 
some  acceptance,  that  when  the  varia- 

99 


WHY  WORRY? 


tion  is  not  definitely  downward,  devi- 
ation and  deviate  be  substituted  for 
the  unnecessarily  opprobrious  and 
often  inappropriate  terms,  degener- 
ation and  degenerate. 


VII. 

HYPOCHONDRIA 

TL  marche,  dort,  mange  et  boit  comme  tous  les 
mitres;    mais    cola    n'empeche    pas    qu'il    soit    fort 

nialade. 

MOLIERE:  Le  Malaae  unaginaire. 

THE  victim  of  hypochondria  may 
present  the  picture  of  health,  or  may 
have  some  real  ill  regarding  which 
he  is  unduly  anxious.  His  consulta- 
tion with  a  physician  is  likely  to  be 
preceded  by  letters  explaining  his 
exact  condition,  naming  his  various 
consultants  and  describing  the  vari- 
ous remedies  he  has  taken.  At  the 
time  of  his  visit  notes  are  consulted, 
lest  some  detail  be  omitted.  In  his 
description  anatomical  terms  abound ; 
thus,  he  has  pain  in  his  lungs,  heart, 

or  kidney,  not  in  his  chest  or  back. 
101 


WHY  WORRY? 

Demonstration  by  the  physician  of 
the  soundness  of  these  organs  is  met 
by  argument,  at  which  the  hypochon- 
driac is  generally  adept. 

The  suggestion  that  the  hypochon- 
driac devotes  undue  attention  to  his 
own  condition  is  met  by  him  with 
indignant  denial.  Proposals  that  he 
should  exercise,  travel,  engage  in 
games,  or  otherwise  occupy  himself, 
fall  on  deaf  ears,  but  he  is  always 
ready  to  try  a  new  drug.  If  a  medi- 
cine is  found  with  whose  ingredients 
the  patient  is  not  already  familiar,  its 
use  is  likely  to  produce  a  beneficial 
effect  for  a  few  days,  after  which  the 
old  complaint  returns. 

The  case  has  come  to  my  attention 
of  a  young  man  who,  for  fear  of  tak- 
ing cold,  remains  in  bed,  with  the 
windows  of  the  room  tightly  closed 

and  a  fire  constantly  burning.     He 
102 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

has  allowed  his  hair  to  grow  until  it 
reaches  his  waist,  he  is  covered  with 
several  blankets,  wears  undercloth- 
ing under  his  nightshirt,  and  refuses 
to  extend  his  wrist  from  under  the 
bed-clothes  to  have  his  pulse  taken. 

Such  faulty  mental  habits  in  minor 
degree  are  common.  There  are  those 
who  will  not  drink  from  a  bottle  with- 
out first  inspecting  its  mouth  for 
flakes  of  glass ;  some  will  not  smoke  a 
cigar  which  has  been  touched  by  an- 
other since  leaving  the  factory;  some, 
will  not  shake  hands  if  it  can  possibly 
be  avoided ;  another  pads  his  clothing 
lest  he  injure  himself  in  falling. 
Many  decline  to  share  the  occupations 
and  pleasures  of  others  through  fear 
of  possible  wet  feet,  drafts  of  air,  ex- 
haustion, or  other  calamity.  Such 
tendencies,  though  falling  short  of 
hypochondria,  pave  the  way  for  it, 

103 


WHY  WORRY? 

and,  in  any  event,  gradually  narrow 
the  sphere  of  usefulness  and  pleasure. 

No  part  of  the  body  is  exempt  from 
the  fears  of  the  hypochondriac,  but  he 
is  prone  to  centre  his  attention  upon 
the  obscure  and  inaccessible  organs. 
The  anecdote  is  told  of  a  physician 
who  had  a  patient  of  this  type — a 
robust  woman  who  was  never  without 
a  long  list  of  ailments.  The  last  time 
she  sent  for  the  doctor,  he  lost  pa- 
tience with  her.  As  she  was  telling 
him  how  she  was  suffering  from 
rheumatism,  sore  throat,  nervous  in- 
digestion, heart-burn,  pains  in  the 
back  of  the  head,  and  what  not,  he  in- 
terrupted her : 

"Ah,"  he  said  in  an  admiring  tone, 
"what  splendid  health  you  must  have 
in  order  to  be  able  to  stand  all  these 
complaints!" 

104 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

The  phobias  are  so  closely  allied  to 
hypochondria  that  it  will  not  be  out 
of  place  to  discuss  them  here.  A 
phobia  is  an  insistent  and  engrossing 
fear,  without  adequate  cause  as 
judged  by  ordinary  standards.  Fa- 
miliar instances  are  fear  of  open 
places  (agoraphobia),  fear  of  closed 
places  (claustrophobia),  and  fear  of 
contamination  (mysophobia). 

The  sufferer  from  agoraphobia 
cannot  bring  himself  to  cross  alone  an 
open  field  or  square.  The  sufferer 
from  claustrophobia  will  invent  any 
excuse  to  avoid  an  elevator  or  the 
theatre.  When  a  certain  lady  was 
asked  if  she  disliked  to  go  to  the 
theatre  or  church,  she  answered,  "Not 
at  all,  but  of  course  I  like  to  have  one 
foot  in  the  aisle ;  I  suppose  everyone 
does  that." 

The  victim  of  mysophobia  will  wash 

105 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  hands  after  touching  any  object, 
and  will,  so  far  as  possible,  avoid 
touching  objects  which  he  thinks  may 
possibly  convey  infection.  Some  use 
tissue  paper  to  turn  the  door-knob, 
some  extract  coins  from  the  pocket- 
book  with  pincers.  I  have  seen  a  lady 
in  a  public  conveyance  carefully  open 
a  piece  of  paper  containing  her  fare, 
pour  the  money  into  the  conductor's 
hand,  carefully  fold  up  the  paper  so 
that  she  should  not  touch  the  inside, 
and  afterwards  drop  it  from  the  tips 
of  her  fingers  into  a  rubbish  barrel. 
The  case  of  a  nurse  who  was  dom- 
inated by  fear  of  infection  has  come 
to  my  attention.  If  her  handkerchief 
touched  the  table  it  was  discarded. 
She  became  very  adept  at  moving  ob- 
jects about  with  her  elbows,  was 
finally  reduced  to  helplessness  and 
had  to  be  cared  for  by  others. 

106 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

Unreasoning  fear  of  one  or  an- 
other mode  of  conveyance  is  not  rare. 
It  is  said  that  Rossini  found  it  im- 
possible to  travel  by  rail,  and  that  the 
attempt  of  a  friend  to  accustom  him 
to  it  resulted  in  an  attack  of  f  aintness 
(Lombroso). 

The  sufferer  himself  realizes,  in 
such  cases,  that  there  is  no  reason  in 
his  fear — he  knows  he  can  undergo 
greater  dangers  with  equanimity. 
Even  doubting  folly  finds  no  answer 
to  the  question  why  should  this  dan- 
ger be  shunned  and  that  accepted. 
The  nearest  approach  to  an  answ&r 
is  "I  can't,"  which  really  means  "I 
haven't." 

The  origin  of  the  phobia  is  not 
always  clear,  but  given  the  necessary 
susceptibility,  circumstances  doubt- 
less dictate  the  direction  the  phobia 
shall  take.  A  startling  personal  ex- 

107 


WHY  WORRY? 

perience,  or  even  reading  or  hearing 
of  such  an  experience  may  start  the 
fear  which  the  insistent  thought 
finally  moulds  into  a  fixed  habit. 

To  the  hypochondriac  who  concen- 
trates his  attention  upon  the  digestive 
tract,  this  part  of  his  body  occupies 
the  foreground  of  all  his  thoughts. 
He  exaggerates  its  delicacy  of  struct- 
ure and  the  serious  consequences  of 
disturbing  it  even  by  an  attack  of 
indigestion.  A  patient  to  whom  a 
certain  fruit  was  suggested  said  he 
could  not  eat  it.  Asked  what  the  ef- 
fect would  be,  he  answered  that  he 
did  not  know,  he  had  not  eaten  any 
for  twenty  years  and  dared  not  risk 
the  experiment. 

Extreme  antipathies  to  various 
foods  are  fostered  among  this  class. 
A  lady  told  me  that  she  perfectly 
abominated  cereals,  that  she  could  not 

108 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

stand  vegetables,  that  she  could  not 
bear  anything  in  the  shape  of  an 
apple,  that  she  could  not  abide 
spinach,  and  that  baked  beans  made 
her  sick  at  the  stomach. 

The  heart  is  perhaps  the  organ 
most  often  the  object  of  solicitude  on 
the  part  of  the  hypochondriac.  When 
we  realize  that  the  pulse  may  vary  in 
the  healthy  individual  from  60  to  over 
100,  according  to  circumstances,  and 
that  mere  excitement  may  send  it 
above  the  latter  figure,  we  may  appre- 
ciate the  feelings  of  one  who  counts 
his  pulse  at  frequent  intervals  and  is 
alarmed  if  it  varies  from  a  given 
figure. 

Inspection  of  the  tongue  is  a  com- 
mon occupation  of  the  hypochondriac, 
who  is  generally  more  familiar  than 
his  medical  attendant  with  the  anat- 
omy of  this  organ. 

109 


WHY  WORRY? 

Insistent  desire  regarding  the  tem- 
perature is  common  not  only  among 
hypochondriacs,  but  among  others.  I 
do  not  allude  to  the  internal  tempera- 
ture (though  I  have  been  surprised  to 
learn  how  many  people  carry  a  clini- 
cal thermometer  and  use  it  on  them- 
selves from  time  to  time)  ;  I  refer  to 
the  temperature  of  the  room  or  of  the 
outside  air.  The  wish  to  feel  a  certain 
degree  of  warmth  is  so  overpowering 
in  some  cases  that  neither  work  nor 
play  can  be  carried  on  unless  the  ther- 
mometer registers  the  desired  figure. 
A  person  with  this  tendency  does  not 
venture  to  mail  a  letter  without  don- 
ning hat  and  overcoat;  the  mere 
thought  of  a  cold  bath  causes  him  to 
shudder. 

Golf  has  cured  many  a  victim  of 
this  obsession.  It  takes  only  a  few 

games  to  teach  the  most  delicately 
no 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

constructed  that  lie  can  remain  for 
hours  in  his  shirt-sleeves  on  quite  a 
cold  day,  and  that  the  cold  shower 
(preferably  preceded  by  a  warm 
one)  invigorates  instead  of  depresses 
him.  Further  experiment  will  con- 
vince him  that  he  can  wear  thin 
underwear  and  low  shoes  all  winter. 
Such  experiences  may  encourage  him 
to  risk  a  cold  plunge  in  the  morning, 
followed  by  a  brisk  rub  and  a  few 
simple  exercises  before  dressing. 

Morbid  fears  in  themselves  produce 
physical  manifestations  which  add  to 
the  discomfort  and  alarm  of  the  hypo- 
chondriac. I  allude  to  the  rush  of 
blood  to  the  head,  the  chill,  the  mental 
confusion,  and  the  palpitation.  These 
symptoms  are  perfectly  harmless, 
and  denote  only  normal  circulatory 
changes.  It  is  true  that  one  cannot  at 

will  materially  alter  his  circulation, 
111 


WHY  WORRY? 

but  he  can  do  so  gradually  by  habit 
of  thought.  To  convince  ourselves  of 
this  fact,  we  need  only  remember  to 
what  a  degree  blushing  becomes  modi- 
fied by  change  of  mental  attitude. 
Similarly,  the  person  who  has  prac- 
ticed mental  and  physical  relaxation 
will  find  that  the  blood  no  longer 
rushes  to  his  head  upon  hearing  a 
criticism  or  remembering  a  possible 
source  of  worry. 

The  automatic  processes  of  the 
body  are  in  general  performed  best 
when  the  attention  is  directed  else- 
where. After  ordinary  care  is  taken, 
too  minute  attention  to  the  digestive 
apparatus,  for  example,  may  retard 
rather  than  aid  it.  Watching  the  di- 
gestion too  closely  is  like  pulling  up 
seeds  to  see  if  they  are  growing. 

The  more  attention  is  paid  to  the 

sensations,  the  more  they  demand. 
112 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

Nor  can  the  degree  of  attention  they 
deserve  be  measured  by  their  own  in- 
sistence. If  one  tries  the  experiment 
of  thinking  intently  of  the  end  of  his 
thumb,  and  imagines  it  is  going  to 
sleep,  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that 
in  fire  minutes  it  will  have  all  the  sen- 
sations of  going  to  sleep.  If  this  is 
true  of  the  healthy-minded  individ- 
ual, how  much  more  must  it  be  so  in 
the  person  who  allows  his  thoughts  to 
dwell  with  anxious  attention  on  such 
parts  of  his  body  as  may  be  the  imme- 
diate seat  of  his  fears.  The  next  step 
is  for  various  sensations  (boring, 
burning,  prickling,  stabbing,  and  the 
like)  to  appear  spontaneously,  and,  if 
attention  is  paid  to  them,  rapidly  to 
increase  in  intensity. 

It  is  probable  that  the  mere  pres- 
sure of  part  upon  part  in  the  body, 
even  the  ordinary  activity  of  its  or- 

8  113 


WHY  WORRY? 

gans,  would  give  rise  to  sensations  if 
we  encouraged  them.  Given  an 
anomalous  sensation,  or  even  a  pain, 
for  which  the  physician  finds  no 
physical  basis,  and  which,  after  a 
term  of  years,  has  produced  no 
further  appreciable  effect  than  to 
make  one  nervous,  it  is  always  in 
place  to  ask  one's  self  whether  the 
sensation  or  the  pain  may  not  be  of 
this  nature. 

Medical  instructors  are  continually 
consulted  by  students  who  fear  that 
they  have  the  diseases  they  are  study- 
ing. The  knowledge  that  pneumonia 
produces  pain  in  a  certain  spot  leads 
to  a  concentration  of  attention  upon 
that  region  which  causes  any  sensa- 
tion there  to  give  alarm.  The  mere 
knowledge  of  the  location  of  the  ap- 
pendix transforms  the  most  harmless 
sensations  in  that  region  into  symp- 

114 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

toms  of  serious  menace.  The  sensible 
student  learns  to  quiet  these  fears, 
but  the  victim  of  "hypos"  returns 
again  and  again  for  examination,  and 
perhaps  finally  reaches  the  point  of 
imparting,  instead  of  obtaining, 
information,  like  the  patient  in  a 
recent  anecdote  from  the  Youth's 
Companion: 

It  seems  that  a  man  who  was  con- 
stantly changing  physicians  at  last 
called  in  a  young  doctor  who  was  just 
beginning  his  practice. 

"I  lose  my  breath  when  I  climb  a 
"Mil  or  a  steep  flight  of  stairs,"  said 
the  patient.  "If  I  hurry,  I  often  get 
a  sharp  pain  in  my  side.  Those  are 
the  symptoms  of  a  serious  heart 
trouble." 

"Not  necessarily,  sir,"  began  the 
physician,  but  he  was  interrupted. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  said  the  pa- 
ns 


WHY  WORRY? 

tient  irritably.  "It  isn't  for  a  young 
physician  like  you  to  disagree  with  an 
old  and  experienced  invalid  like  me, 
sir!" 

There  is  no  absolute  standard  for 
the  proper  degree  of  solicitude  re- 
garding one's  health,  but  if  the  hab- 
itual invalid  possess  a  physique  which 
would  not  preclude  the  average  nor- 
mal individual  from  being  out  and 
about,  even  at  the  expense  of  a  pain,  a 
stomach  ache,  or  a  cold,  there  is  prob- 
ably a  hypochondriacal  element  in  the 
case.  It  is  a  question  of  adjustment 
of  effect  to  cause. 

The  term  " imaginary"  is  too 
loosely  applied  to  the  sensations  of 
the  hypochondriac.  This  designation 
is  unjustified,  and  only  irritates  the 
sufferer,  rouses  his  antagonism,  and 
undermines  his  confidence  in  the 

116 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

judgment  of  his  adviser.  He  knows 
that  the  sensations  are  there.  To  call 
them  imaginary  is  like  telling  one 
who  inspects  an  insect  through  a 
microscope  that  the  claws  do  not  look 
enormous;  they  do  look  enormous — 
through  the  microscope — but  this 
does  not  make  them  so.  The  wor- 
rier must  learn  to  realize  that  he 
is  looking  at  his  sensations,  as  he 
does  everything  else,  through  a 
microscope. 

If  a  person  living  near  a  waterfall 
ignores  the  sound,  he  soon  ceases  to 
notice  it,  but  if  he  listens  for  it,  it  in- 
creases, and  becomes  finally  unbear- 
able. Common  sense  teaches  him  to 
concentrate  his  attention  elsewhere; 
similarly,  it  demands  that  the  victim 
of  "  hypos  "  disregard  his  various  sen- 
sations and  devote  his  attention  to 
outside  affairs,  unless  the  sensations 

117 


WHY  WORRY? 

are  accompanied  by  obvious  physical 
signs.  Instead  of  running  to  the 
doctor,  let  him  do  something — ride 
horseback,  play  golf,  anything  requir- 
ing exercise  out  of  doors.  Let  him 
devote  his  entire  energy  to  the  exer- 
cise, and  thus  substitute  the  healthy 
sensations  of  fatigue  and  hunger  for 
the  exaggerated  pains  and  the  anoma- 
lous sensations  which  are  fostered 
by  self -study.  Let  him  remember 
moreover,  that  nature  will  stand  an 
enormous  amount  of  outside  abuse, 
but  resents  being  kept  under  close 
surveillance. 

In  practicing  the  neglect  of  the  sen- 
sations, one  should  not  allow  his  mind 
to  dwell  on  the  possibility  that  he  is 
overlooking  something  serious,  but 
rather  on  the  danger  of  his  becoming 
"hypped,"  a  prey  to  his  own  doubts 
and  fears,  and  unable  to  accomplish 

118 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

anything  in  life  beyond  catering  to 
his  own  morbid  fancies. 

Turning  now  to  the  bibliographic 
study  of  hypochondria,  an  interesting 
and  characteristic  contrast  is  offered 
between  Huxley,  who  called  himself 
a  hypochondriac,  but  apparently  was 
not,  and  Carlyle,  who  resented  the 
imputation,  though  it  apparently  had 
some  justification  in  fact. 

With  regard  to  Huxley, — the  only 
basis  for  the  diagnosis  hypochondria 
in  a  given  case,  is  undoubted  evidence, 
by  letter  or  conversation,  that  the 
question  of  health  is  given  undue 
prominence.  I  have  looked  carefully 
through  the  volume  of  Huxley's  let- 
ters (published  by  his  son),  without 
definitely  establishing  this  diagnosis. 
The  state  of  his  health  and  the  ques- 
tion of  his  personal  comfort  received 

J19 


WHY  WORRY? 

comparatively  little  attention.  What- 
ever suffering  Huxley  endured  he 
seems  to  have  accepted  in  a  philosoph- 
ical and  happy  spirit,  thus : 

"  It  is  a  bore  to  be  converted  into  a 
troublesome  invalid  even  for  a  few 
weeks,  but  I  comfort  myself  with  my 
usual  reflection  on  the  chances  of  life, 
1  Lucky  it  is  no  worse.'  Any  impa- 
tience would  have  been  checked  by 
what  I  heard  about  .  .  .  this  morn- 
ing .  .  .  that  he  has  sunk  into  hope- 
less idiocy.  A  man  in  the  prime  of 
life!" 

"With  regard  to  Carlyle, — it  is  true, 
as  claimed  by  Gould  (Biographic 
Clinics,  1903)  that  he  showed  every 
evidence  of  eyestrain  with  result- 
ing symptoms,  particularly  headache. 
This  does  not,  however,  preclude  his 
having  had  hypochondria  also,  and  in 

view  of  the  violent  and  reiterated 
120 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

complaints  running  through  his  let- 
ters it  seems  quite  credible  that 
Froude's  estimate  of  his  condition 
was  not  far  wrong.  Surely,  unless 
Carlyle  was  merely  trying  his  pen 
without  intending  to  be  taken  seri- 
ously, he  devoted  to  the  question  of 
health  a  degree  of  attention  which 
may  be  fairly  adjudged  undue. 

The  first  letter  I  quote  (from 
those  cited  by  Gould  in  fortifying  his 
position)  is  of  special  interest  as 
presenting  in  rather  lurid  terms 
Carlyle 's  ideal  of  health.  After  read- 
ing this  letter  one  cannot  help 
suspecting  that  the  discomforts  so 
vividly  described  in  his  other  letters 
were  compared  by  him  with  this  ideal 
rather  than  with  those  of  the  average 
individual. 

"In  the  midst  of  your  zeal  and 

ardor,  .  .  .  remember    the    care    of 
121 


WHY  WORRY? 

health.  ...  It  would  have  been  a 
very  great  thing  for  me  if  I  had  been 
able  to  consider  that  health  is  a  thing 
to  be  attended  to  continually,  that 
you  are  to  regard  that  as  the  very 
highest  of  all  temporal  things  for  you. 
There  is  no  kind  of  achievement  you 
could  make  in  the  world  that  is  equal 
to  perfect  health.  What  to  it  are 
nuggets  and  millions?  The  French 
financier  said  'Why  is  there  no  sleep 
to  be  sold ! '  Sleep  was  not  in  the  mar- 
ket at  any  quotation.  ...  I  find 
that  you  could  not  get  any  better 
definition  of  what  'holy'  really  is  than 
'  healthy. '  Completely  healthy ;  m  ens 
sana  in  corpore  sano.  A  man  all  lucid, 
and  in  equilibrium.  His  intellect  a 
clear  mirror  geometrically  plane, 
brilliantly  sensitive  to  all  objects  and 
impressions  made  on  it  and  imaging 
all  things  in  their  correct  propor- 

123 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

tions;  not  twisted  up  into  convex  or 
concave,  and  distorting  everything  so 
that  he  cannot  see  the  truth  of  the 
matter,  without  endless  groping  and 
manipulation:  healthy,  clear,  and 
free  and  discerning  truly  all  around 
him." 

The  following  extracts  illustrate  his 
attitude  toward  his  physical  short- 
comings, whatever  they  may  have 
been. 

.  .  .  "  A  prey  to  nameless  struggles 
and  miseries,  which  have  yet  a  kind 
of  horror  in  them  to  my  thoughts, 
three  weeks  without  any  kind  of  sleep, 
from  impossibility  to  be  free  from 
noise." 

"I  sleep  irregularly  here,  and  feel 
a  little,  very  little,  more  than  my  usual 
share  of  torture  every  day.  What  the 
cause  is  would  puzzle  me  to  explain. 
I  take  exercise  sufficient  daily;  I  at- 

123 


WHY  WORRY? 

tend  with  rigorous  minuteness  to  the 
quality  of  my  food;  I  take  all  the 
precautions  that  I  can,  yet  still  the 
disease  abates  not." 

"Hi-health,  the  most  terrific  of  all 
miseries." 

1  l  Grown  sicker  and  sicker.  ...  I 
want  health,  health,  health !  On  this 
subject  I  am  becoming  quite  furious. 
.  .  .  If  I  do  not  soon  recover,  I  am 
miserable  forever  and  ever.  They 
talk  of  the  benefit  of  health  from  a 
moral  point  of  view.  I  declare  sol- 
emnly, without  exaggeration,  that  I 
impute  nine-tenths  of  my  present 
wretchedness,  and  rather  more  than 
nine-tenths  of  all  my  faults,  to  this 
infernal  disorder  in  the  stomach." 

"  Bilious,  too,  in  these  smothering 
windless  days." 

"Broke  down  in  the  park;  Ttonnte 

124 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

nichts  mehr,  being  sick  and  weak 
beyond  measure." 

"Many  days  of  suffering,  of  dark- 
ness, of  despondency.  .  .  .  Ill-health 
has  much  to  do  with  it." 

"Occasionally  sharp  pain  (some- 
thing cutting  hard,  grasping  me 
around  the  heart).  .  .  .  Something 
from  time  to  time  tying  me  tight  as  it 
were,  all  around  the  region  of  the 
heart,  and  strange  dreams  haunting 
me." 

"There  is  a  shivering  precipitancy 
in  me,  which  makes  emotion  of  any 
kind  a  thing  to  be  shunned.  It  is 
my  nerves,  my  nerves.  .  .  .  Such  a 
nervous  system  as  I  have.  .  .  . 
Thomas  feeling  in  his  breast  for  com- 
fort and  finding  bilious  fever.  .  .  . 
All  palpitating,  fluttered  with  sleep- 
lessness and  drug-taking,  etc.  .  .  . 
Weary  and  worn  with  dull  blockhead- 

125 


WHY  WORRY? 

ism,  chagrin  (next  to  no  sleep  the 
night  before)." 

"A  head  full  of  air;  you  know  that 
wretched  physical  feeling ;  I  had  been 
concerned  with  drugs,  had  awak- 
ened at  five,  etc.  It  is  absolute 
martyrdom. " 

"A  huge  nightmare  of  indigestion, 
insomnia,  and  fits  of  black  impatience 
with  myself  and  others, — self  chiefly. 
.  .  .  I  am  heartily  sick  of  my  dyspep- 
tic bewilderment  and  imprisonment." 

"Alas !  Alas !  I  ought  to  be  wrap- 
ped in  cotton  wool,  and  laid  in  a 
locked  drawer  at  present.  I  can 
stand  nothing.  I  am  really  ashamed 
of  the  figure  I  cut." 

Froude's  statements  regarding 
Carlyle's  condition  are  as  follows: 

"...  The  simple  natural  life,  the 
wholesome  air,  the  daily  rides  or 
drives,  the  poor  food,  .  .  .  had  re- 

126 


HYPOCHONDRIA 

stored  completely  the  functions  of  a 
stomach  never  so  far  wrong  as  he  had 
imagined.  .  .  .  Afterwards  he  was 
always  impatient,  moody,  irritable, 
violent.  These  humours  were  in  his 
nature,  and  he  could  no  more  be 
separated  from  them  than  his  body 
could  leap  off  its  shadow.  .  .  .  He 
looked  back  to  it  as  the  happiest  and 
wholesomest  home  that  he  had  ever 
known.  He  could  do  fully  twice  as 
much  work  there,  he  said,  as  he  could 
ever  do  afterwards  in  London." 

".  .  .  If  his  liver  occasionally 
troubled  him,  livers  trouble  most  of 
us  as  we  advance  in  life,  and  his 
actual  constitution  was  a  great  deal 
stronger  than  that  of  ordinary  men. 
.  .  .  Why  could  not  Carlyle,  with 
fame  and  honor  and  troops  of  friends, 
and  the  gates  of  a  great  career  flung 
open  before  him,  and  a  great  intellect 

127 


WHY  WORRY? 

and  a  conscience  untroubled  by  a 
single  act  which  he  need  regret,  bear 
and  forget  tool  Why  indeed!  The 
only  answer  is  that  Carlyle  was 
Carlyle." 

These  observations  carry  weight  as 
representing  the  impartial  and  ju- 
dicial estimate  of  a  careful  observer 
desiring  only  accurately  to  picture 
Carlyle  as  he  was.  The  only  logical 
conclusion,  it  seems  to  me,  was  that 
Carlyle,  in  addition  to  ocular  defect 
with  its  legitimate  consequences,  was 
weighed  down  by  worry  over  the  fail- 
ure to  realize  his  own  exaggerated 
ideal  of  health,  that  he  devoted  an 
undue  degree  of  attention  to  this  sub- 
ject and  was  unduly  anxious  about  it 
— in  other  words,  that  he  had  decided 
hypochondriacal  tendencies. 


126 


VIII. 

NEURASTHENIA 

IT  waa  a  common  saying  of  Myson  that  men  ought 
not  to  investigate  things  from  words,  but  words 
from  things;  for  that  things  are  not  made  for  the 
sake  of  words,  but  words  for  things. 

Diogenes   Laertius. 

THIS  term  (properly,  though  not 
commonly,  accented  upon  the  penult) , 
was  introduced  by  Beard  to  designate 
the  large  class  of  over-worked  and 
worried  who  crowded  his  consulting 
room.  The  word  is  derived  from  the 
Greek  neuron  nerve,  and  astheneia 
weakness. 

Among  the  symptoms  of  this  dis- 
order have  been  included  disorders  of 
digestion  and  circulation,  muscular 
weakness,  pains,  flushes  and  chills, 
and  anomalous  sensations  of  every 
variety.  It  has  been  especially  ap- 

9  129 


WHY  WORRY? 

plied  to  cases  showing  such  mental 
peculiarities  as  morbid  self-study, 
fear  of  insanity  and  the  various  other 
phobias,  scruples,  and  doubts  with 
which  we  have  become  familiar. 

The  "American  Disease"  has  been 
adopted  abroad,  and  volumes  have 
been  devoted  to  it.  Neurasthenia  has 
been  divided  into  cerebral,  spinal,  and 
otherwise,  according  as  the  fears  and 
sensations  of  the  patient  are  referred 
to  one  or  another  part  of  his  body. 
While  the  term  neurasthenia  is  be- 
coming daily  more  familiar  to  the 
general  public,  it  is  being,  on  the 
whole,  used,  except  as  a  convenient 
handle,  rather  less  among  neurolo- 
gists.* The  question  has  arisen 
whether  the  symptoms  of  neuras- 


*  In  substantiation  of  this  statement  I  need  only 
cite  the  recent  contribution  of  my  friend,  Dr.  Dana, 
»n  the  "  Partial  Passing  of  Neurasthenia." 

130 


NEURASTHENIA 

thenia  are  always  due  to  simple  ex- 
haustion. Advice  regarding  method, 
as  well  as  amount,  of  work,  is  coming 
into  vogue.  Peterson,  in  a  letter  pub- 
lished in  Collier's  Weekly  (Novem- 
ber 9,  1907)  thus  arraigns  a  patient 
who  has  told  him  he  is  a  practical 
business  man,  and  that  his  mind  has 
been  so  occupied  with  serious  matters 
that  he  has  been  unable  to  attend  to 
his  health. 

"You,  practical!  you,  a  business 
man !  Why,  you  never  had  a  serious 
thought  in  your  life  until  now — at 
least  not  since  you  were  a  lad  in  the 
country.  .  .  .  Since  boyhood  you  have 
never  given  a  serious  thought  to 
health,  home,  wife,  children,  educa- 
tion, art,  science,  racial  progress,  or 
to  the  high  destiny  of  man.  You  are 
simply  a  collector  of  money  for  its 
own  Bake,  with  no  appreciation  of 

131 


WHY  WORRY? 

what  it  might  represent  if  you  were 
really  serious  and  really  a  business 
man  or  man  of  affairs.  There  are 
many  like  you  in  our  asylum  wards, 
where  they  are  known  as  chronic 
maniacs.  Here  is  one  who  collects 
bits  of  glass,  old  corks,  and  pieces  of 
string.  There  sits  another  with  a  lap 
full  of  pebbles,  twigs  and  straws." 

Courtney  (in  Pyle's  " Personal 
Hygiene")  says,  "The  brain  is  an 
organ  which,  under  proper  training, 
is  capable  of  performing  an  immense 
amount  of  work,  provided  only  that 
the  work  is  of  a  varied  character  and 
does  not  produce  a  corresponding 
amount  of  mental  disquietude.  The 
importance  of  the  emotions,  especi- 
ally the  depressing  emotions  such  as 
grief,  anxiety,  and  worry,  as  factors 
in  the  brain  exhaustion,  cannot  easily 
be  overestimated." 

132 


NEURASTHENIA 

The  obvious  corollary  to  this  prop- 
osition is  that  the  constitutional 
worrier  is  likely  to  break  down  under 
an  amount  of  work  which  produces  no 
such  effect  upon  the  average  normal 
individual. 

The  only  quarrel  I  have  with  the 
name  neurasthenia  is  that  it  diverts 
attention  from  the  real  condition 
oftenest  to  be  treated,  namely,  the 
faulty  mental  tendency,  and  directs 
attention  to  an  assumed  debility 
which  may  or  may  not  exist.  Misdi- 
rected energy,  rather  than  weakness, 
is  the  difficulty  with  one  who  is  ready 
and  anxious  to  walk  miles  to  satisfy  a 
doubt,  or  to  avoid  crossing  an  open 
square,  and  who  will  climb  a  dozen 
flights  of  stairs  rather  than  be  shut  up 
in  an  elevator.  Even  the  exhaustion 
that  follows  long  attention  to  business 
is  quite  as  often  due  to  worry  and 

133 


WHY  WORRY? 

allied  faulty  mental  habits  as  to  the 
work  itself.  In  most  cases  the 
phobias,  the  doubts,  and  the  scruples, 
instead  of  being  the  result  of  break- 
down, must  be  counted  among  its 
principal  causes. 

This  is  why  simple  rest  and  ab- 
stinence from  work  so  often  fail  to 
accomplish  the  cure  that  should  fol- 
low if  the  exhaustion  were  due  simply 
to  overwork.  In  the  " neurasthenic" 
rest  from  work  only  redoubles  the 
worries,  the  doubts  and  the  scruples, 
and  the  obsession  to  improve  his  time 
only  adds  to  his  nervous  exhaustion. 
If  a  European  trip  is  undertaken,  the 
temperament  responsible  for  the 
original  breakdown  causes  him  to 
rush  from  gallery  to  gallery,  from 
cathedral  to  cathedral,  so  that  no  mo- 
ment may  be  lost.  Not  infrequently 

134 


NEURASTHENIA 

it  so  happens  that  the  patient  returns 
more  jaded  than  ever. 

The  neurasthenic  is  not  infre- 
quently a  confirmed  obsessive,  with 
all  the  faulty  mental  habits  of  this 
temperament.  If  he  cannot  make  up 
his  mind  it  is  not  because  he  is  tired, 
but  because  this  is  his  natural  mental 
trend.  If  he  drums,  twitches,  and 
walks  the  floor,  these  movements  are 
not  always  due  to  exhaustion,  but  are 
habits  peculiar  to  the  temperament, 
habits  well  worth  an  effort  to  elimin- 
ate while  in  health,  since  they  doubt- 
less, through  precluding  bodily  re- 
pose, contribute  their  mite  toward  the 
very  exhaustion  of  which  they  are 
supposed  to  be  the  result.  If  he  can- 
not sleep  it  is  not  simply  because  he 
is  tired,  but  because  he  is  so  consti- 
tuted that  he  cannot  bring  himself  to 
let  go  his  hold  on  consciousness  until 

135 


WHY  WORRY? 

he  has  straightened  out  his  tangles. 
If,  in  addition,  one  has  the  hypochon- 
driacal  tendency,  he  may  worry  him- 
self into  complete  wakef  ulness  by  the 
thought  that  he  has  already  irrepara- 
bly injured  himself  by  missing  some- 
thing of  the  mystic  number,  eight  or 
nine,  or  whatever  he  may  deem  the 
number  of  hours'  sleep  essential  to 
health. 

It  is  important  that  the  over- 
wrought business  or  professional  man 
realize  the  importance  of  undertak- 
ing no  more  than  he  can  accomplish 
without  fret  and  worry;  the  impor- 
tance of  taking  proper  vacations 
before  he  is  tired  out ;  the  importance 
of  learning  to  divert  his  mind,  while 
he  can  still  do  so,  into  channels  other 
than  those  connected  with  his  busi- 
ness; above  all,  the  importance  of 
cultivating  the  faculty  of  relaxing, 

136 


NEURASTHENIA 

and  of  dismissing  doubts,  indecisions 
and  fears.  He  must  cultivate  what 
my  colleague  Dr.  Paul  succinctly 
terms  "the  art  of  living  with  yourself 
as  you  are."  If  he  would  "last  out" 
he  must  learn  to  proceed  with  single 
mind  upon  whatever  work  he  under- 
takes, and  with  equal  singleness  of 
mind  apply  himself,  out  of  hours,  to 
other  occupation  or  diversion,  pre- 
ferably in  the  open  air.  For  the  most 
effective  work,  as  well  as  for  peace  of 
mind,  it  is  essential  that  every 
thought  of  one's  office  be  shut  out  by 
other  interests  when  there  is  no  actual 
business  requiring  attention.  Mental 
relaxation  is  materially  hampered  by 
such  persistent  thoughts  of  one's 
place  of  business  as  those  cited  by 
Dr.  Knapp : 

"A  striking  instance  of  the  sort  was 
related  to  me  by  a  friend  remarkably 

137 


WHY  WORRY? 

free  from  any  psychopathic  taint.  It 
often  happens  that  he  does  scientific 
work  in  the  evening  at  the  Agassiz 
Museum.  When  he  leaves  for  the 
night  he  puts  out  the  gas  and  then 
stands  and  counts  slowly  up  to  a  given 
number  until  his  eyes  are  used  to  the 
darkness,  in  order  that  he  may  detect 
any  spark  of  fire  that  may  have 
started  while  he  was  at  work.  This 
is  his  invariable  custom,  but  it  some- 
times happens  that  when  he  goes  back 
home  so  strong  a  feeling  of  doubt 
comes  over  him  lest  he  may  that  once 
have  omitted  to  do  this,  that  he  is  un- 
comfortable until  he  returns  to  the 
museum  to  make  sure." 

Among  the  predisposing  causes  for 
nervous  breakdown  none  is  more 
potent  than  the  inability  of  the  obses- 
sive to  adapt  himself  to  change  of 
plan,  and  to  reconcile  himself  to 

138 


NEURASTHENIA 

criticism,  opposition,  and  the  vari- 
ous annoyances  incident  to  his 
occupation. 

In  dealing  with  others  the  follow- 
ing suggestion  of  Marcus  Aurelius 
may  come  in  play : 

"When  a  man  has  done  thee  any 
wrong,  immediately  consider  with 
what  opinion  about  good  or  evil  he 
has  done  wrong.  For  when  thou  hast 
seen  this,  thou  wilt  pity  him,  and 
neither  wonder  nor  be  angry."  Again, 
in  this  connection  the  lines  of  Cowper 
are  pertinent : 

"  The  modest,   sensible   and  well-bred   man 
Will  not  affront  me,  and  no  other  can." 

Pope,  also,  who  is  said  not  always 
to  have  followed  his  own  good  coun- 
sel, contributes  a  verse  which  may 
serve  a  turn: 

"At  ev'ry  trifle  scorn  to  take  offense, 
That  always  shows  great  pride,  or  little  sense." 

139 


WHY  WORRY? 

The  practice  of  such  commonplace 
philosophy  (which,  to  be  effective, 
should  be  ready  for  immediate  use, 
not  stored  away  for  later  reflection), 
together  with  training  against  faulty 
mental  states  studied  in  these  pages, 
will  go  far  toward  relieving  the 
mental  perturbation  that  unfits  for 
effective  work,  and  contributes  to 
"  neurasthenia. " 

During  an  hour's  delay,  caused  by 
the  failure  of  another  to  keep  an 
appointment,  I  formulated  the  fol- 
lowing maxim : 

"  These  are  the  annoyances  inci- 
dent to  my  business;  to  fret  when 
they  occur  means  that  I  cannot  man- 
age my  business  without  friction." 

This  may  not  appeal  to  the  reader, 
but  for  me  it  has  proved  as  good  an 
hour's  work  as  I  ever  did.  Since  that 
time,  on  the  occurrence  of  similar 

140 


NEURASTHENIA 

sources  of  provocation,  I  have  found 
it  necessary  to  go  no  farther  than 
" These  are  the  annoyances,"  to  re- 
store the  needful  balance.  When  we 
allow  our  gorge  to  rise  at  ordinary 
sources  of  discomfort,  it  implies  that 
we  are  prepared  only  for  our  affairs 
to  run  with  perfect  smoothness.  This 
represents  the  insistent  idea  carried 
to  an  absurdity. 

At  the  risk  of  losing  caste  with  the 
critical  I  cannot  forbear  sharing 
with  the  reader  an  inelegant  maxim 
which  has  more  than  once  prevented 
an  access  of  rage  upon  the  blunder  of 
a  subordinate :  "If  he  had  our  brains 
he'd  have  our  job." 

Spinoza  says:  "The  powerlessness 
of  man  to  govern  and  restrain  his 
emotions  I  call  servitude.  For  a  man 
who  is  controlled  by  his  emotions  is 
not  his  own  master  but  is  mastered 

141 


WHY  WORRY? 

by  fortune,  under  whose  power  he  is 
often  compelled,  though  he  sees  the 
better,  to  follow  the  worse."  The 
same  philosopher  in  counselling  self- 
restraint  adds : 

"The  mind's  power  over  the  emo- 
tions consists,  first,  in  the  actual 
knowledge  of  the  emotions. "  Again: 
"An  emotion  which  is  a  passion 
ceases  to  be  a  passion  as  soon  as  we 
form  a  clear  and  distinct  idea  of  it." 
The  meaning  of  this  dictum  I  first 
realized  on  experiencing  the  magical 
effect  of  the  line  of  thought  suggested 
by  the  delayed  appointment. 

Communion  with  Nature  has  a  pe- 
culiarly soothing  effect  on  tired  and 
jangled  nerves.  My  friend,  Dr. 
Harold  Williams,  tells  me  that  among 
his  main  reliances  for  tired  and  over- 
wrought women  are  the  reading  of 

142 


NEURASTHENIA 

children's  books,  and  ivorking  in  tine 
garden.  Peterson  thus  advises  his 
busy  patient : 

"A  small  farm  in  a  simple  com- 
munity would  be  for  you  an  asset  of 
immeasurable  value  from  the  stand- 
point of  health  and  spiritual  rejuven- 
ation. But  true  simplicity  should  be 
the  rigorous  order  of  that  country 
life.  A  chateau  by  the  sea,  with  a 
corps  of  gardeners,  a  retinue  of 
servants,  and  yachts  and  auto- 
mobiles, would  prove  a  disastrous 
expedient. 

"In  that  quiet  retreat  you  should 
personally  and  tenderly  learn  to 
know  each  rosebud,  shrub,  vine, 
creeper,  tree,  rock,  glade,  dell,  of  your 
own  estate.  You  should  yourself  de- 
sign the  planting,  paths,  roads,  the 
flower-garden,  the  water-garden,  the 
wood-garden,  the  fernery,  the  lily- 

143 


WHY  WORRY? 

pond,  the  wild -garden,  and  the 
kitchen  garden. " 

Not  everyone  is  so  happily  situ- 
ated as  to  be  able  to  follow  this  ad- 
vice in  its  entirety,  but  many  can 
make  a  modest  effort  in  this  direc- 
tion :  the  kitchen-garden  may  appeal 
to  some  who  have  no  appreciation  for 
the  wild  flowers,  and  who  scorn  to 
cultivate  such  tastes. 

One  warning  is,  however,  here  in 
order :  The  cultivation  of  the  garden 
or  the  field  for  utilitarian  purposes  is 
inevitably  associated  with  the  maxim, 
"Hoe  out  your  row" — an  excellent 
maxim  for  the  idle  and  disorderly, 
but  not  to  be  taken  too  literally  by 
the  over-exacting  and  methodical 
business  man  who  is  trying  to  make 
the  radical  change  in  his  view  of  life 
necessary  to  free  his  mind  from  the 
incubus  of  worry.  Nor  must  the 

144 


amateur  husbandman  scan  with  too 
anxious  eye  the  weather  map  and  the 
clouds.  If  he  mind  these  warnings 
he  may  learn  to  say, — 

"  For  me  kind  Nature  wakes  her  genial  poVr, 

Suckles  each  herb,  and  spreads  out  ev'ry  flower, 
Annual  for  me,  the  grape,  the  rose  renew, 
The  juice  nectareous,  and  the  balmy  dew." 

The  over-conscientious  individual 
may  object  that  it  is  selfish  to  con- 
sider his  own  comfort  when  he  has 
work  to  do  for  others.  But  expend- 
ing too  freely  of  our  nervous  energies, 
even  in  a  good  cause,  is  like  giving  to 
charity  so  much  of  our  substance  that 
we  in  turn  are  obliged  to  lean  on 
others  for  support. 

In  properly  conserving  our  own 
energy  we  may  be  lightening  the  ulti- 
mate burden  of  others.  There  is  no 
place  for  selfishness  in  HaeckePs 
philosophy  regarding  the  proper  bal- 

10  146 


WHY  WORRY? 

ance  between  duty  to  one's  self  and 
duty  to  others.  Nor  was  selfishness 
a  failing  of  the  Quaker  poet  who 
idealized 

"The  flawless  symmetry  of  man, 
The  poise  of  heart  and  mind." 


146 


IX. 

SLEEPLESSNESS 

HE  shall  enjoy  the  same  tranquillity  in  his  sleep 
aa  when  awake. 

Digby's  Epicurus,  Maxim  xl. 

SLEEPLESSNESS  is  due,  in  the  ma- 
jority of  cases,  to  a  faulty  habit  of 
mind.  The  preparation  for  a  sleep- 
less night  begins  with  the  waking 
hours,  is  continued  through  the  day, 
and  reaches  its  maximum  when  we 
cease  from  the  occupations  which 
have  in  some  degree  diverted  our  at- 
tention from  harassing  thoughts,  and 
retire,  to  struggle,  in  darkness  and 
solitude,  with  the  worries,  doubts,  re- 
grets, and  forebodings,  which  now 
assume  gigantic  and  fantastic  shapes. 

He  who  would  sleep  at  night  must 
regulate  his  day,  first,  by  not  under- 

147 


WHY  WORRY? 

taking  more  than  he  can  accomplish 
without  undue  stress,  and,  second,  by 
carrying  through  what  he  does  under- 
take, as  far  as  he  may,  without  the 
running  accompaniment  of  undue 
solicitude,  anxious  doubts,  and  mor- 
bid fears  discussed  in  the  preceding 
sections.  It  is  futile  to  expect  that  a 
fretful,  impatient,  and  over-anxious 
frame  of  mind,  continuing  through 
the  day  and  every  day,  will  be  sud- 
denly replaced  at  night  by  the  placid 
and  comfortable  mental  state  which 
shall  insure  a  restful  sleep. 

Before  proceeding,  then,  to  the  im- 
mediate measures  for  inducing  sleep, 
let  us  consider  the  suitable  prepara- 
tory measures. 

The  nervous  breakdown  which  pre- 
cludes sleep  is  oftener  due  to  worry 
than  to  work.  Nor  should  the  suf- 
ferer jump  too  quickly  to  the  conclu- 

148 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

sion  that  it  is  the  loss  of  sleep  rather 
than  the  worry  that  makes  him 
wretched.  It  is  astonishing  how  much 
sleep  can  be  lost  without  harm,  pro- 
vided its  loss  is  forgotten,  and  how 
much  work  can  be  carried  on  without 
extreme  fatigue,  provided  it  be  un- 
dertaken with  confidence  and  pursued 
without  impatience.  It  is,  however, 
essential  that  the  work  be  varied  and, 
at  due  intervals,  broken.  Trainers 
for  athletic  contests  know  that  in- 
creasing practice  without  diversion 
defeats  its  end,  and  particularly  in- 
sist upon  cessation  of  violent  effort 
directly  before  the  final  test.  Why 
should  we  not  treat  our  minds  as  well 
as  our  bodies? 

The  active  and  over-scrupulous 
business  or  professional  man  who  al- 
lows no  time  for  rest  or  recreation, 
who  can  confer  no  responsibility  upon 

149 


WHY  WORRY? 

his  subordinates,  who  cultivates  no 
fad,  and  is  impatient  of  every  mo- 
ment spent  away  from  his  occupation, 
is  in  danger  of  eventually  "  going 
stale,"  and  having  to  spend  a  longer 
and  less  profitable  vacation  in  a 
sanitarium  than  would  have  sufficed 
to  avert  the  disaster.  Nor  will  he  find 
it  easy  to  change  his  sleep-habit  with 
the  change  of  residence.  It  behooves 
him  to  change  that  habit  while  still 
at  work,  as  a  step  toward  averting 
breakdown. 

It  will  harm  few  of  us  to  take  a 
bird's  eye  view  of  our  affairs  at  stated 
intervals,  and  ask  ourselves  if  the 
time  has  not  arrived  when  it  will  be 
a  saving  of  time  and  money  as  well  as 
worry  for  us  to  delegate  more  of  the 
details,  and  more  even  of  the  re- 
sponsibilities, to  others,  concentrating 
our  own  energies  upon  such  tasks  as 

150 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

we  are  now  peculiarly  qualified  to 
undertake.  To  the  man  determined 
to  accomplish  a  lifetime  of  work 
before  he  rests,  there  is  food  for 
thought  in  the  following  anecdote : 

When  Pyrrhus  was  about  to  sail 
for  Italy,  Cineas,  a  wise  and  good 
man,  asked  him  what  were  his  inten- 
tions and  expectations. 

"To  conquer  Rome,"  said  Pyrrhus. 

"And  what  will  you  do  next,  my 
lord?" 

"Next  I  will  conquer  Italy." 

"And  after  that?" 

"We  will  subdue  Carthage,  Mace- 
donia, all  Africa,  and  all  Greece." 

"And  when  we  have  conquered  all 
we  can,  what  shall  we  do?" 

"  Do  ?  Why,  then  we  will  sit  down 
and  spend  our  time  in  peace  and 
comfort." 

"Ah,    my    lord,"    said    the    wise 

151 


WHY  WORRY? 

Cineas,  "what  prevents  our  being  in 
peace  and  comfort  now?" 

The  time  to  take  a  vacation  is  be- 
fore one  is  exhausted.  If  one  is 
discontented  during  his  vacation,  he 
should  take  it,  none  the  less,  as  a  mat- 
ter of  duty,  not  expecting  to  enjoy 
every  moment  of  it,  but  contenting 
himself  with  the  anticipation  of 
greater  pleasure  in  the  resumption  of 
his  duties.  He  should  cultivate  an 
interest  in  out-door  occupation  or 
some  study  that  carries  him  into  the 
fields  or  woods.  Aside  from  the  time 
on  shipboard,  the  worst  possible  vaca- 
tion for  the  overworked  business  or 
professional  man  is  the  trip  to 
Europe,  if  spent  in  crowding  into  the 
shortest  possible  time  the  greatest 
possible  amount  of  information  on 
matters  artistic,  architectural,  and 
historic. 

152 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

No  one  can  acquire  the  habit  of 
sleep  who  has  not  learned  the  habit 
of  concentration,  of  devoting  himself 
single-minded  to  the  matter  in  hand. 
If  we  practice  devoting  our  minds, 
as  we  do  our  bodies,  to  one  object  at 
a  time,  we  shall  not  only  accomplish 
more,  but  with  less  exhaustion. 
Training  in  this  direction  will  help 
us,  on  retiring,  to  view  sleep  as  our 
present  duty,  and  a  sufficient  duty, 
without  taking  the  opportunity  at 
that  time  to  adjust  (or  to  try  to 
adjust)  all  our  tangles,  to  review  our 
past  sources  of  discomfort,  and  to 
speculate  upon  the  ills  of  the  future. 

A  walk,  a  bath,  a  few  gymnastic 
exercises,  will  often  serve  a  useful 
purpose  before  retiring,  but  if  they 
are  undertaken  in  a  fretful  and  im- 
patient spirit,  and  are  accompanied 
by  doubts  of  their  effectiveness,  and 

153 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  insistent  thought  that  sleep  will 
not  follow  these  or  any  other  proced- 
ure, they  are  likely  to  accomplish 
little. 

The  best  immediate  preparation 
for  sleep  is  the  confidence  that  one 
will  sleep,  and  indifference  if  one 
does  not.  It  is  an  aid  in  the  adoption 
of  this  frame  of  mind  to  learn  that 
many  have  for  years  slept  only  a  few 
hours  per  night,  without  noticeable 
impairment  of  their  health  or  com- 
fort. Neither  unbroken  nor  long- 
continued  sleep,  however  desirable,  is 
essential  to  longevity  or  efficiency. 
This  is  illustrated  by  the  following 
examples : 

Joseph  A.  Willard,  for  nearly  half 
a  century  Clerk  of  the  Court  in  Suf- 
folk County,  and  a  well-known  figure 
on  the  streets  of  Boston,  died  in  his 

154 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

eighty-eighth  year.  He  was  active 
and  alert  in  the  performance  of  his 
daily  duties  up  to  their  discontinu- 
ance shortly  before  his  death.  He 
kept,  meantime,  records  of  the  tem- 
perature, weather,  and  condition  of 
the  streets,  at  all  hours  of  the  night, 
and  every  night,  for  many  years  be- 
fore the  establishment  of  the  weather 
bureau.  So  reliable  were  these  rec- 
ords regarded  by  the  courts  that  they 
were  often  appealed  to  in  the  trial  of 
cases,  and  their  accuracy  never  ques- 
tioned by  either  party  in  the  suit.  I 
publish  these  facts  by  the  permission 
of  his  son. 

George  T.  Angell,  the  well-known 
humanitarian,  than  whom  few,  if  any, 
have  led  a  more  busy  life,  when  in  his 
sixty-ninth  year  wrote  as  follows : 

"For  the  benefit  of  those  who  do 
not  [take  narcotics,  opiates,  anaes- 

155 


WHY  WORRY? 

thetics]  I  will  say  that  I  suppose 
there  are  very  few  in  this  country 
who  have  slept  less  than  I  have ;  but  I 
have  never  taken  anything  to  stupefy, 
while  thousands  of  good  sleepers  I 
have  known  have  long  since  gone  to 
the  last  sleep  that  knows  no  waking 
here.  It  was  undoubtedly  wise  to 
change  my  professional  life  from 
court  to  office  practice:  but  in  other 
matters  I  was  compelled  to  choose 
between  living  the  life  of  a  vegetable, 
or  losing  sleep;  and  I  chose  the 
latter." 

Mr.  Angell  is  now  eighty-four,  still 
actively  engaged  in  affairs,  and  al- 
lows me  to  add  that  during  the  past 
six  years  he  has  gone  for  a  week  at  a 
time  with  no  sleep ;  for  three  months 
at  a  time  he  has  not  averaged  more 
than  two  hours  in  twentv-four:  he 

v  t 

does  not  remember  having  ever  had 

156 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

a  good  night's  sleep.  Mrs.  Angell 
states  that,  with  one  exception,  she 
has  never  known  him  to  sleep  through 
the  night. 

It  is  worth  while  to  remember  these 
experiences  before  resorting  to  drugs 
for  sleeplessness. 

I  have  somewhere  seen  it  stated 
that  a  prominent  divine  attributed  his 
happy  and  green  old  age  to  the  fact 
that  he  slept  a  certain  number  of 
hours  every  night.  Against  this  state- 
ment must  be  set  the  reflection  that 
many  another  old  gentleman  can 
fairly  attribute  his  comfort,  in  part 
at  least,  to  an  attitude  of  indifference 
toward  the  unessentials,  among  which 
I  suspect  must  be  included  the  ques- 
tion whether  we  average  eight  hours 
of  sleep  or  materially  less. 

Let  us  now  consider  some  of  the 
faulty  mental  habits  directly  affect- 

157 


ing  sleep  itself.  First  comes  the  com- 
pulsive thought  that  one  must  sleep 
now,  and  the  impatient  count  of  the 
wakeful  hours  supposed  to  be  ir- 
recoverably lost  from  the  coveted 
number.  This  insistence  in  itself 
precludes  sleep.  The  thought,  "No 
matter  if  I  don't  sleep  to-night ;  I  will 
some  other  night,"  will  work  wonders 
in  the  direction  of  producing  sleep 
to-night. 

The  continuance  of  any  given  posi- 
tion, completely  relaxed,  in  bed,  even 
without  unconsciousness,  is  more  rest- 
ful than  tossing  about.  The  mere 
experiment  of  remaining  immobile  in 
a  certain  position  as  long  as  possible, 
and  concentrating  the  mind  on  the 
thought,  "I  am  getting  sleepy,  I  am 
going  to  sleep,"  will  oftener  produce 
the  desired  result  than  watching  the 
proverbial  sheep  follow  one  another 

158 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

over  the  wall.  Training  during  the 
day  in  restraining  nervous  move- 
ments is  an  aid  in  acquiring  the 
ability  to  do  this. 

This  is  a  field  in  which  self-sugges- 
tion is  of  definite  value.  Everyone 
appreciates  the  effect  on  sleep  of  the 
"state  of  mind"  when  he  has  passed 
a  succession  of  sleepless  hours  fol- 
lowed by  a  sudden  tendency  to  som- 
nolence at  the  time  for  rising.  The 
problem  is  to  acquire  the  frame  of 
mind  without  waiting  for  circum- 
stances. To  demonstrate  the  effect  of 
faulty  suggestion  combined  with  rest- 
lessness on  awaking  in  the  night,  try; 
the  following: 

EXPERIMENT  I. — Place  yourself  on 
the  face  and  from  this  point  turn 
rapidly  in  a  complete  circle  back- 
wards from  right  to  left  until  you  are 
again  on  the  face.  Pause  several 

159 


WHY  WORRY? 

times  and  say  to  yourself  rapidly  "I 
cannot  sleep  in  this  position."  The 
result  of  the  experiment  is  practically 
uniform.  The  rapid  movement  and 
the  suggestion  prevent  sleep. 

To  demonstrate  the  effect  of  bodily 
relaxation  combined  with  correct  sug- 
gestion, in  promoting  sleep  try — 

EXPERIMENT  II. — Start  in  the  same 
position  as  Experiment  I.  Traverse 
the  same  circle,  prolonging  each  pause 
with  body  relaxed,  and  substituting 
at  each  pause  the  suggestion,  "I  can 
sleep  in  any  position,"  repeated  a 
number  of  times  deliberately  and  as  if 
you  meant  it.  The  restful  pose  and 
the  suggestion  generally  induce  sleep 
long  before  the  circle  is  completed. 

Next  comes  the  compulsive  thought 
that  we  cannot  sleep  until  everything 
is  "squared  up"  and  all  mental  pic- 
tures completed.  The  story  is  told 

160 


that  a  gentleman  took  a  room  in  the 
hotel  next  another  who  was  notori- 
ously fussy.  He  remembered  this 
fact  after  dropping  one  boot  care- 
lessly to  the  floor,  and  laid  the  other 
gently  down.  After  a  pause  he  heard 
a  rap  on  the  door  and  a  querulous, 
"For  heaven's  sake,  drop  the  other 
boot,  or  I  can't  get  to  sleep." 

Many  find  themselves  unable  to 
sleep  until  the  whole  household  is  ac- 
counted for  and  the  house  locked  up 
for  the  night,  until  certain  news  is 
received,  and  the  like.  The  same  ten- 
dency postpones  sleep  until  all  affairs 
are  straightened  out  in  the  mind,  as 
well  as  in  reality.  A  little  reflection 
shows  how  indefinite  must  be  the 
postponement  of  sleep  under  such 
conditions. 

No  training  is  more  important  for 
the  victim  of  compulsive  tendencies 

11  131 


WHY  WORRY? 

than  the  practice  of  trusting  some- 
thing to  chance  and  the  morrow,  and 
reconciling  himself  to  the  fact  that  at 
no  time,  in  this  world,  will  all  things 
be  finally  adjusted  to  his  satisfaction. 

The  habit  of  dismissing,  at  will,  dis- 
agreeable thoughts  is  a  difficult  but 
not  impossible  acquisition.  Arthur 
Benson  in  "The  Thread  of  Gold" 
relates  the  following  anecdotes : 

"When  Gladstone  was  asked,  'But 
don't  you  find  you  lie  awake  at  night, 
thinking  how  you  ought  to  act,  and 
how  you  ought  to  have  acted?'  he  an- 
swered, 'No,  I  don't;  where  would 
be  the  use  of  that?1  " 

"Canon  Beadon  [who  lived  to  be 
over  one  hundred]  said  to  a  friend 
that  the  secret  of  long  life  in  his  own 
case  was  that  he  had  never  thought 
of  anything  unpleasant  after  ten 
o'clock  at  night." 

162 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

The  insistent  desire  to  sleep  in  a 
certain  bed,  with  a  certain  degree  of 
light  or  darkness,  heat  or  cold,  air  or 
absence  of  air,  is  detrimental.  This 
is  in  line  with  the  desire  to  eat  certain 
foods  only,  at  a  certain  table,  and  at  a 
certain  time.  The  man  who  loses  his 
appetite  if  dinner  is  half  an  hour  late 
is  unable  again  to  sleep  if  once  waked 
up.  This  individual  must  say  to  him- 
self, "  Any  one  can  stand  what  he 
likes ;  it  takes  a  philosopher  to  stand 
what  he  does  not  like,"  and  try  at 
being  a  philosopher  instead  of  a 
sensitive  plant. 

Inability  to  sleep  while  certain 
noises  are  continued  must  be  simi- 
larly combated.  If  one  goes  from 
place  to  place  in  search  of  the  quiet 
spot  for  sleep,  he  may  finally  find 
quiet  itself  oppressive,  or  worse  yet, 
may  be  kept  awake  by  hearing  his 

163 


WHY  WORRY? 

own  circulation,  from  which  escape  is 
out  of  the  question.  He  who  finds 
himself  persistently  out  of  joint  with 
his  surroundings  will  do  well  to  pon- 
der the  language  of  the  Chinese 
philosopher : 

"The legs  of  the  stork  are  long,  the 
legs  of  the  duck  are  short:  you  can- 
not make  the  legs  of  the  stork  short, 
neither  can  you  make  the  legs  of  the 
duck  long.  Why  worry  1 ' ' 

With  regard  to  the  character  of 
sleep  itself,  the  attitude  of  our  mind 
in  sleep  is  dominated,  to  a  degree,  at 
least,  by  its  attitude  in  the  waking 
hours.  It  is  probable  that  during 
profound  sleep  the  mind  is  inactive, 
and  that  dreams  occur  only  during 
the  transition-state  from  profound 
sleep  to  wakefulness.  It  is  conceiv- 
able that  in  the  ideal  sleep  there  is 
only  one  such  period,  but  ordinarily 

164 


SLEEPLESSNESS 

there  occur  many  such  periods  during 
the  night ;  for  the  uneasy  sleeper  the 
night  may  furnish  a  succession  of 
such  periods,  with  comparatively  lit- 
tle undisturbed  rest,  hence  his  dreams 
seem  to  him  continuous.  The  char- 
acter of  the  pictures  and  suggestions 
of  dreams,  though  in  new  combina- 
tions, are  largely  dependent  on  our 
daily  experiences.  Is  it  not,  then, 
worth  while  to  encourage,  during  our 
waking  hours,  as  far  as  is  consistent 
with  our  duties,  such  thoughts  as 
are  restful  and  useful,  rather  than 
those  which  serve  no  purpose  but 
annoyance. 

If   we    will,    we    can    select    our 
thoughts  as  we  do  our  companions. 


165 


X. 

OCCUPATION  NEUROSIS 

BE  not  ashamed  to  be  helped;  for  it  is  thy  busi- 
ness to  do  thy  duty  like  a  soldier  in  the  assault  on 
a  town.  How,  then,  if  being  lame  thou  canst  not 
mount  up  on  the  battlement  alone,  but  with  the 
help  of  another  it  is  possible? 

Marcus   Aurelius. 

THE  insistent  and  over-consci- 
entious habit  of  mind  plays  so  large 
a  part  in  the  so-called  occupation 
neuroses  that  a  brief  discussion  of 
their  nature  may  here  be  in  place. 

'The  best-known  form  of  this  dis- 
tressing malady  is  "writer's  cramp." 
Upon  this  subject  the  proverbially 
dangerous  little  knowledge  has  been 
already  acquired ;  a  fuller  knowledge 
may  give  comfort  rather  than  alarm, 
and  may  even  lead  to  the  avoidance 
of  this  and  allied  nervous  disorders. 

166 


OCCUPATION  NEUROSIS 

The  term  " writer's  cramp "  has  un- 
duly emphasized  a  feature,  namely, 
the  cramp,  which  is  neither  the  most 
common  nor  the  most  troublesome 
among  the  symptoms  resulting  from 
over-use  of  a  part.  In  occupation 
neuroses,  other  than  those  produced 
by  the  use  of  the  pen,  pain,  weakness, 
and  numbness  are  at  least  equally 
prominent,  and  even  in  writer's 
cramp  the  "  neuralgic"  form  is 
common. 

The  fact  is  generally  realized  that 
this  type  of  disorder  is  particularly 
frequent  among  persons  of  nervous 
temperament.  The  reason  is  two- 
fold, first,  the  resistance  of  such  indi- 
viduals is  less  than  the  average,  sec- 
ond, the  insistent  habit  of  mind  leads 
them  to  overdo.  It  is  against  the  lat- 
ter factor  that  our  efforts  may  to 
advantage  be  directed. 

167 


WHY  WORRY? 

I  have  in  mind  the  case  of  a  lady 
who  complained  of  severe  pain  in  the 
right  arm  with  no  apparent  physical 
cause.  The  pain,  at  first  appearing 
only  when  the  arm  was  placed  in  a 
certain  position,  finally  became  almost 
constant.  She  denied  excessive  use 
of  the  arm,  but  her  husband  stated 
that  she  plied  the  needle  to  such  an 
extent  that  it  caused  the  family  dis- 
tress. This  she  indignantly  denied, 
and  fortified  her  position  by  the  state- 
ment that  she  only  took  short  stitches ! 
Further  inquiry  elicited  the  acknowl- 
edgment that  she  did  so  because  she 
could  no  longer  take  long  ones.  This 
is  a  fair  example  of  an  occupation 
neurosis. 

Some  time  ago,  after  long  con- 
tinued and  over-conscientious  effort 
to  satisfy  the  requirements  of  an 
athletic  instructor,  I  acquired  what  is 

168 


OCCUPATION  NEUROSIS 

known  as  a  "golf  arm."  Efforts  at 
its  relief  were  unavailing.  A  vigor- 
ous course  of  massage  only  increased 
the  pain.  I  finally  asked  a  friend 
what  they  did  in  England  when  a  golf 
player  suffered  this  annoyance.  He 
replied  that  no  golf  player  ever  did 
so ;  when  it  occurred  among  others  the 
arm  was  placed  in  wool  for  three 
months,  at  the  end  of  which  time  a 
single  movement  of  swinging  the  club 
was  made;  if  this  movement  caused 
pain  the  treatment  was  renewed  for 
another  three  months.  I  did  not  sup- 
pose he  intended  the  advice  to  be 
taken  literally,  but  followed  it,  except 
as  regarded  the  wool,  and  I  verily 
believe  that  I  should  otherwise  have 
been  experimenting  with  the  treat- 
ment of  golf  arm  to-day. 

My  friend's  advice  indicates  the 
general  experience  with  occupation 

169 


WHY  WORRY? 

neuroses  including  writer's  cramp, 
for  which  every  imaginable  measure 
has  been  tried,  only  to  be  replaced  by 
protracted  abstinence  from  the  use  of 
the  pen.  The  attempt  to  use  the  left 
hand  proves,  as  a  rule,  only  tempor- 
arily efficacious.  The  speedy  appear- 
ance of  symptoms  in  the  left  hand 
emphasizes  the  fact  that  it  is  tired 
brain,  as  well  as  the  tired  muscle,  that 
rebels. 

The  ranks  of  every  profession,  and 
of  every  trade,  are  daily  depleted  of 
the  most  promising  among  their  mem- 
bers, whose  zeal  has  outrun  their  dis- 
cretion ;  their  overworked  brains  and 
hands  have  succumbed  under  the  in- 
cessant strain  of  tasks,  often  self- 
imposed. 

It  is  hard,  but  essential,  for  the 
sufferer  from  an  occupation  neurosis 
to  abandon  frantic  efforts  at  combin- 

170 


OCCUPATION  NEUROSIS 

ing  treatment  with  continuance  of 
labor.  He  must  bring  all  Ms  philoso- 
phy to  bear  on  the  temporary,  but 
complete,  abandonment  of  his  chosen 
occupation,  at  whatever  loss  to  him- 
self or  others. 

To  avoid  this  contingency  the  over- 
conscientious  worker  will  do  well  to 
modify  his  ambition,  and  lower  his 
pride  if  needful,  consoling  himself 
with  the  reflection  that  an  occasional 
interruption  of  his  labor,  even  at  ma- 
terial loss,  may  be  replaced  by  years 
of  future  usefulness.  Cowper  says: 

"  'Tie  thus  the  understanding  takes  reposa 

In  indolent  vacuity  of  thought, 
And  rests,  and  is  refreshed." 


171 


XI. 

THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 

SMALL  habits,  well  pursued  betimes, 
May  reach  the  dignity  of  crimes. 

Hannah  More. 

MORE  than  one  "  sunbeam "  and 
"life  of  the  party"  in  society  is  the 
"cross  patch "  and  "fuss  budget"  of 
the  home.  His  gracious  smiles  and 
quips  abroad  are  matched  at  home  by 
darkened  brows  and  moody  silence, 
only  broken  by  conversation  of  the 
italicized  variety:  "Will  it  ever  stop 
raining?"  "Can't  you  see  that  I  am 
busy?"  "What  are  you  doing?"  and 
the  like.  Whatever  banner  is  ex- 
hibited to  the  outside  world,  the  motto 
at  home  seems  to  be  "Whatever  is,  is 
wrong."  Defects  in  the  menage,  care- 
fully overlooked  when  dining  out,  are 

172 


THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 

called  with  peculiar  unction  to  the 
attention  of  the  housekeeper  of  the 
home,  whose  worry  to  please  is  only 
matched  by  the  "  sunbeam  V  fear 
that  she  shall  think  him  satisfied 
with  what  is  placed  before  him. 

"  There's  something  kind  of  pitiful  about  a  man  that 

growls 
Because  the  sun  beats  down  too  hot,  because  the 

wild  wind  howls, 
Who  never   eats   a   meal   but   that  the   cream   ain't 

thick  enough, 

The   coffee   ain't   been   settled   right,   or   else   the 
meat's  too  tough — 

Poor  chap!    He's  just  the  victim  of  Fate's  oldest, 

meanest    trick, 

You  '11    see   by   watching   mules   and   men,   they 
don't  need  brains  to  kick." 

Chicago  Interocean. 

Add  to  the  "kicking  habit"  the 
insistence  that  each  member  of  the 
family  must  be  reminded  at  frequent 
intervals  of  his  peculiar  weaknesses, 
and  that  the  discussion  of  uncom- 
fortable topics,  long  since  worn 

173 


WHY  WORRY? 

threadbare,  must  be  reopened  at  every 
available  opportunity,  and  the  adage 
is  justified,  "be  it  ever  so  humble, 
there's  no  place  like  home." 

Try  the  following  suggestion  on 
approaching  the  house  after  a  hard 
day's  work.  Say  to  yourself,  "Why 
tired  and  cross?  Why  not  tired  and 
good-natured?"  The  result  may 
startle  the  family  and  cause  inquiries 
for  your  health,  but  "Don't  Worry," 
if  it  does;  console  yourself  with  the 
thought  they  will  like  you  none  the 
less  for  giving  them  a  glimpse  of  that 
sunny  nature  of  which  they  have 
often  heard. 

As  a  further  preparation  for  the 
evening  meal,  and  the  evening,  by 
way  of  alleviating  the  mental  and 
physical  discomfort  following  a  try- 
ing day,  one  is  surprised  by  the  ef- 
fectiveness of  taking  a  bath  and 

174 


changing  all  the  clothing.  This  treat- 
ment, in  fact,  almost  offers  a  sure 
cure,  but  the  person  who  would  be 
most  benefited  thereby,  is  the  person 
so  obsessed  to  pursue  the  miserable 
tenor  of  his  way  that  he  scouts  the 
suggestion  that  he  thus  bestir  himself, 
instead  of  sinking  into  the  easy  chair. 
He  may,  however,  accept  the  sugges- 
tion that  simply  changing  the  shoes 
and  stockings  is  extremely  restful, 
when  reminded  that  if  he  had  worn 
kid  gloves  all  day  he  would  be  relieved 
to  free  his  hands  from  the  incubus, 
and,  if  gloves  must  still  be  worn,  to 
put  on  a  cool  pair. 

It  is  a  further  aid  to  physical,  and 
indirectly  to  mental,  comfort,  if  one 
can  learn  to  wear  low  shoes  and  the 
thinnest  of  underwear  the  year 
round;  the  former  offer  a  panacea 
for  fidgets;  the  latter  lessens  the 

175 


WHY  WORRY? 

perspiration,  which  increases  the  sus- 
ceptibility to  drafts,  and  to  even 
moderate  lowering  of  temperature. 
The  prevailing  belief  that  this  pro- 
cedure is  dangerous  is  disproved  by 
the  experience  of  the  many  who  have 
given  it  a  thorough  trial.  The  insis- 
tent belief  of  the  neurotic  that  he 
cannot  acquire  this  habit  is  touched 
upon  in  the  chapter  on  Worry  and 
Obsession.  If  he  thinks  he  is  "  taking 
cold,"  let  him  throw  back  his  shoul- 
ders and  take  a  few  deep  breaths,  or 
if  convenient,  a  few  exercises,  instead 
of  doubling  the  weight  of  his  under- 
wear, and  in  the  long  run  he  will  find 
that  he  has  not  only  increased  his 
comfort,  but  has  lessened,  rather  than 
increased,  the  number  of  his  colds. 

Much  of  the  worry  of  the  home  is 
retrospective.  "If  I  had  only  made 
Mary  wear  her  rubbers," — "If  we 

176 


THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 

had  only  invested  in  Calumet  &  Hecla 
at  25," — "If  we  had  only  sent  John 
to  college,"  represent  a  fruitful 
source  of  family  discomfort.  The 
morbid  rhyme  is  familiar  to  all : 

"  Of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen, 
The  saddest  these,  '  It  might  have  been.' " 

I  should  be  glad  to  learn  of  any 
advantage  accruing  from  the  indul- 
gence of  this  attitude  toward  the 
bygone.  A  happier  and  more  sensible 
habit  of  mind  may  be  attained  by 
equal  familiarity  with  the  following : 

"Add  this  suggestion  to  the  verse, 
'  It  might  have  been  a  great  deal  worse.' " 

A  fruitful  source  of  discomfort  for 
the  worrier  at  home  is  the  absence  of 
occupation.  He  looks  forward  to 
mental  rest  after  using  his  brain  all 
day,  but  there  is  no  rest  for  him 
unless  in  sleep.  The  most  valuable 

12  177 


WHY  WORRY? 

rest  he  could  give  Ms  mind  would  be 
to  occupy  it  with  something  worth 
while,  yet  not  so  strenuous  as  to  cause 
solicitude.  As  Saleeby  points  out,  the 
mock  worry  of  a  game  is  a  good  anti- 
dote for  the  real  worry  of  life,  and  a 
game  is  far  better  than  nothing, 
unless  the  player  make,  in  turn,  a 
work  of  his  play,  in  which  case  worry 
continues. 

The  hardest  task  for  the  worrier  at 
home  is  to  get  away  from  home.  With 
advancing  years  the  temptation  grows 
upon  us  to  spend  our  evenings  by  the 
fireside,  to  make  no  new  friends  and 
seek  no  new  enjoyments.  But  this 
unbroken  habit  is  neither  the  best 
preparation  for  a  happy  old  age,  nor 
the  best  method  of  counteracting 
present  worry.  Nor  should  one  stop 
to  decide  whether  the  special  enter- 
tainment in  question  will  be  worth 

178 


THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 

while — he  must  depend  rather  on  the 
realization  that  if  he  accepts  most 
opportunities  he  will  be,  on  the  whole, 
the  gainer. 

The  man  whose  occupation  keeps 
him  in-doors  all  day  should  make 
special  effort  to  pass  some  time  in 
the  open  air,  if  possible  walking  or 
driving  to  and  from  his  place  of  busi- 
ness, and  taking  at  least  a  stroll  in 
the  evening. 

As  more  than  one  writer  has  sug- 
gested, the  best  resource  is  the  fad* 
The  fad  will  prove  an  inestimable 
boon  after  withdrawing  from  active 
work,  but  it  should  be  commenced 
long  before  one  discontinues  business, 
else  the  chances  are  that  he  will  never 
take  it  up,  but  will  fret  away  his  time 
like  the  average  man  who  retires  from 
an  occupation  which  has  engrossed 
his  attention. 

*  See  footnote  on  page  222. 
179 


WHY  WORRY? 


The  fad  should  not  be  pursued  too 
strenuously,  or  its  charm  is  lost.  A 
lady  once  told  me  that  she  had  given 
up  studying  flowers  because  she 
found  she  could  not  master  botany  in 
the  time  at  her  disposal.  Another  sees 
no  use  in  taking  up  history  unless  he 
can  become  an  authority  on  some 
epoch.  Another  declines  to  study 
because  he  can  never  overtake  the 
college  graduate.  But  one  of  the  best 
informed  men  of  my  acquaintance 
had  no  college  education.  One  of  his 
fads  was  history,  with  which  he  was 
far  more  familiar  than  any  but  the 
exceptional  college  man,  outside  the 
teachers  of  that  branch  of  learning. 

The  usefulness  of  the  fad  does  not 
depend  upon  the  perfection  attained 
in  its  pursuit,  but  upon  the  pleasure 
in  its  pursuit,  and  upon  the  diversion 
of  the  mind  from  its  accustomed 

180 


THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 

channels.  The  more  completely  one 
learns  to  concentrate  his  thoughts  on 
an  avocation,  the  more  enthusiasm 
and  effectiveness  he  can  bring  to  bear 
on  his  vocation  in  its  turn.  A  fad 
that  occupies  the  hands,  such  as  car- 
pentering, turning,  or  photography, 
is  peculiarly  useful  if  one's  taste  runs 
in  that  direction. 

One  handicap  in  cultivating  the  fad 
is  the  lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of 
our  associates,  but  if  we  become  genu- 
inely interested  in  any  fad  that  is  at 
all  worth  while,  we  shall  inevitably 
add  new  acquaintances  likely  to  prove 
at  least  as  interesting  as  those  of  our 
present  friends,  who  have  no  thoughts 
outside  their  daily  round  of  toil.  The 
more  fads  one  cultivates,  so  long  as  he 
avoids  the  obsession  to  obtrude  them 
at  all  times  and  places,  the  more  in- 

181 


WHY  WORRY? 

teresting  he  will,  in  his  turn,  become 
to  others. 

The  over-solicitude  that  defeats  its 
own  end,  in  the  case  of  a  parent,  has 
been  admirably  portrayed  by  Arthur 
Benson  in  " Beside  Still  Waters," — 
"there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
that  he  more  desired  than  the  com- 
pany and  the  sympathy  of  his  chil- 
dren; but  he  had,  beside  this,  an 
intense  and  tremulous  sense  of  his 
responsibility  toward  them.  He  at- 
tached an  undue  importance  to  small 
indications  of  character,  and  thus  the 
children  were  seldom  at  ease  with 
their  father,  because  he  rebuked  them 
constantly,  and  found  frequent  fault, 
doing  almost  violence  to  his  tender- 
ness, not  from  any  pleasure  in 
censoriousness,  but  from  a  terror, 
that  was  almost  morbid,  of  the  conse- 

182 


THE  WORRIER  AT  HOME 

quences  of  the  unchecked  develop- 
ment of  minute  tendencies." 

Something  must  be  left  to  natural 
growth,  and  to  fortune,  even  in  such 
important  matters  as  the  rearing  of 
children. 


183 


XII. 

THE  WORRIER  ON  HIS  TRAVELS 

AFTER  all,  is  it  not  a  part  of  the  fine  art  of  living 
to  take  the  enjoyment  of  the  moment  as  it  comes 
without  lamenting  that  it  is  not  something  else? 
LILIAN  WHITING:  Land  of  Enchantment. 

IN  no  phase  of  life  is  the  worrying 
and  the  " fussy''  habit  more  notice- 
able than  in  travel.  This  is,  perhaps, 
partly  because  the  lack  of  self-confi- 
dence, which  so  often  unsettles  the 
worrier,  is  peculiarly  effective  when 
he  has  relinquished  the  security  of  his 
accustomed  anchorage.  This  applies 
surely  to  the  over-solicitous  attention 
paid  by  the  traveler  to  the  possible 
dangers  of  rail  and  sea.  Here  is  a 
verse  from  Wallace  Irwin : 

" '  Suppose  that  this  here  vessel,'  says  the  skipper 

with  a   groan, 

'  Should  lose  'er  bearin's,  run  away  and  bump  upon 
a  stone; 

184 


THE  WORRIER  ON  HIS  TRAVELS 

Suppose  she'd  shiver  and  go  down  when  save  our- 
selves we  couldn't.' 

The   mate   replies, 

'  Oh,  blow  me  eyes ! 
Suppose  agin  she  shouldn't  ? '  " 

A  common  direction  taken  by  the 
worrying  habit,  in  the  traveler,  is 
that  of  taking  in  advance  each  step  of 
the  journey,  preparing  for  every 
contingency,  and  suffering  before- 
hand every  imaginable  hardship  and 
inconvenience.  I  do  not  vouch  for 
the  story  (though  I  can  match  it  with- 
out going  far  afield)  of  the  gentleman 
who  abandoned  his  trip  from  Paris 
to  Budapesth  because  he  found  he 
would  be  delayed  in  Vienna  six  hours, 
"too  long  time  to  wait  in  the  station, 
and  not  long  enough  to  go  to  the 
hotel.'7  It  is  the  imperative  duty  of 
every  traveler  to  discover  interests 
which  shall  tide  him  over  a  few  hours' 
delay  wherever  it  may  occur. 

It  is  by  no  means  a  waste  of  time 

185 


WHY  WORRY? 

to  familiarize  ourselves  with  the 
geography  at  least  of  our  own  coun- 
try; to  know  the  situation  and  ap- 
pearance of  every  city  of  importance, 
and  to  know  something  about  the  dif- 
ferent railroads  besides  their  initials, 
and  their  rating  in  the  stock  market. 
Again,  if  we  take  up  the  study  of  the 
trees,  flowers  and  birds,  with  the  aid 
of  the  admirable  popular  works  now 
available,  we  shall  not  only  view  the 
scenery  with  new  eyes,  but  shall  wel- 
come, rather  than  be  driven  to  de- 
spair by,  a  breakdown  in  the  woods. 
It  is  a  mistake  to  shun  our  fellow- 
travelers,  from  whom  we  should 
rather  try  to  learn  something.  This 
is  a  solace  in  traveling  alone,  for  the 
boon  companion  may  handicap  us  in 
cultivating  new  acquaintances  and 
gaining  new  impressions.  Though 
the  main  object  of  recreation  is  diver- 

186 


THE  WORRIER  ON  HIS  TRAVELS 

sion  from  the  daily  round  of  thought, 
the  fact  need  not  be  lost  sight  of  that 
the  busy  man  will  find  his  practical 
interests  furthered,  rather  than  hin- 
dered, by  a  little  widening  of  the 
horizon.  Nor  should  he  forget,  mean- 
time, the  admonition  of  Seneca  that 
if  he  would  wish  his  travels  delightful 
he  must  first  make  himself  delightful. 
It  is  inevitable  that  uncomfortable, 
as  well  as  agreeable,  experiences  oc- 
cur in  travel.  But  the  man  who 
spends  his  time  and  thought  in  avoid- 
ing the  one  and  seeking  the  other  is 
steadily  forging  chains  whose  gall 
shall  one  day  surpass  the  discomforts 
of  a  journey  around  the  world. 
Arthur  Benson  in  "Beside  Still 
Waters "  says  that  Hugh  learned 
one  thing  at  school,  namely,  that  the 
disagreeable  was  not  necessarily  the 
intolerable.  Some  of  us  would  do 

187 


WHY  WORRY? 

well  to  go  back  to  school  and  learn 
this  over  again.  I  know  of  only  two 
ways  by  which  the  discomforts  of 
travel  can  be  avoided.  One  is  to 
ignore  them,  the  other  to  stay  at  home. 

A  fellow  traveler  told  me  that  on 
one  occasion,  in  the  presence  of  a 
beautiful  bit  of  mountain  scenery,  he 
overheard  two  ladies  in  anxious 
consultation  comparing,  article  by 
article,  the  corresponding  menus  of 
two  rival  hotels.  The  fact  that  three 
varieties  of  fish  were  offered  at  one, 
while  only  two  were  offered  at  the 
other,  opened  so  animated  a  discus- 
sion of  quantity  as  opposed  to  prob- 
able quality  that  the  listener  dis- 
cretely withdrew. 

A  lady  on  the  Florida  express,  after 
reading  a  novel  all  day  with  an  occa- 
sional interim,  during  which  she 
gazed  through  her  lorgnette  with 

188 


THE  WORRIER  ON  HIS  TRAVELS 

bored  and  anxious  air,  finally  said  to 
her  companion,  "I  have  not  seen  a 
single  estate  which  compares  to  those 
in  Brookline." 

Among  the  varieties  of  needless 
worry  imposed  upon  the  traveler  by 
the  insistent  habit,  none  is  more  com- 
mon, or  more  easily  overcome,  than 
the  refusal  to  sleep  unless  noise  and 
light  are  quite  shut  out.  If  the  suf- 
ferer make  of  his  insistent  habit  a 
servant,  rather  than  a  master,  and 
instead  of  reiterating  "I  must  have 
quiet  and  darkness,"  will  confidently 
assert,  "'I  must  get  over  this  non- 
sense," he  will  speedily  learn  that 
freedom  from  resentment,  and  a  good 
circulation  of  air,  are  more  conducive 
to  sleep  than  either  darkness  or 
silence. 

The  best  drug  for  the  sleepless 
traveler  is  the  cequo  animo  of  Cicero. 

189 


XIII. 

THE  WORRIER  AT  THE  TABLE 

THESE  little  things  are  great  to  little  man. 

GOLDSMITH:    The  Traveller. 

THE  insistent  habit  of  mind  is 
nowhere  more  noticeable  than  in  con- 
nection with  the  food.  I  have  seen  a 
hotel  habitue,  apparently  sane,  who 
invariably  cut,  or  broke,  his  bread 
into  minute  particles,  and  minutely 
inspected  each  before  placing  it  in  his 
mouth.  If  this  were  a  book  of  con- 
fessions, I  should  have  myself  to 
plead  guilty,  among  worse  things,  to 
having  avoided  mince  pie  for  weeks 
after  encountering  among  other  in- 
gredients of  this  delicacy,  a  piece  of 
broken  glass. 

Not  infrequently  the  obsessive 
diner  so  long  hesitates  before  giving 

190 


THE  WORRIER  AT  THE  TABLE 

his  final  order  that  the  waiter  brings 
the  wrong  dish.  The  insistent  thought 
now  replaces  the  doubting  folly,  and 
the  diner  would  as  soon  think  of  eat- 
ing grass  as  the  article  offered.  I 
have  known  him  impatiently  to  leave 
the  table  under  these  circumstances, 
and  to  play  the  ostentatious  martyr, 
rather  than  partake  of  the  food  he 
had  at  the  outset  given  weighty  con- 
sideration. I  have  seen  another  omit 
his  lunch  because  water  had  been 
spilled  upon  the  cloth,  and  still 
another  leave  the  dining-car,  with  the 
announcement  that  he  would  forego 
his  meal  because  informed  by  the  con- 
ductor that  men's  shirt  waists  with- 
out coats  were  taboo. 

The  obsessive  of  this  type  may  by 
training  even  reach  the  point  of 
seeing  the  amusing  instead  of  the 
pathetic  side  of  the  picture  when,  in 

191 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  course  of  his  travels,  his  request 
for  "a  nice  bit  of  chicken,  cut  thin," 
is  transmitted  to  the  kitchen  as — 
"One  chick." 

One  day,  with  pride,  I  called  the 
attention  of  my  easy-going  friend  to 
the  fact  that  I  was  eating  a  dish  I 
had  not  ordered.  He  quietly  re- 
marked that  the  next  step  was  to  eat 
it  and  say  nothing!  Another  friend 
has  this  motto  in  his  dining-room: 
"Eat  what  is  set  before  you  and  be 
thankful."  His  children  will  open 
their  eyes  when  they  find  others,  less 
reasonably  reared,  demanding  that 
the  potatoes  be  changed  because  they 
are  sprinkled  with  parsley,  that  a 
plate  be  replaced  because  it  has  had  a 
piece  of  cheese  upon  it,  or  that  the 
salad  of  lettuce  and  tomato  be  re- 
moved in  favor  of  one  with  tomato 
alone. 

192 


THE  WORRIER  AT  THE  TABLE 

A  lady  recently  told  me  of  break- 
fasting with  a  foreign  sojourner  in 
America,  who  upon  being  offered  the 
contents  of  an  egg  broken  into  a  glass, 
was  not  satisfied  with  declining  it,  but 
felt  impelled  also  to  express  his 
extreme  disgust  at  this  method  of 
serving  it,  fortunately  to  the  amuse- 
ment, rather  than  to  the  annoyance  of 
his  hostess. 

" After  this,  know  likewise,"  says 
Epictetus,  "that  you  are  a  brother 
too;  and  that  to  this  character  it 
belongs  to  make  concessions,  to  be 
easily  persuaded,  to  use  gentle  lan- 
guage, never  to  claim  for  yourself  any 
non-essential  thing,  but  cheerfully  to 
give  up  these  to  be  repaid  by  a  larger 
share  of  things  essential.  For  con- 
sider what  it  is,  instead  of  a  lettuce, 
for  instance,  or  a  chair,  to  procure  for 
yourself  a  good  temper.  How  great 
an  advantage  gained!" 

13  193 


WHY  WORRY? 

The  insistent  desire  to  have  a  cer- 
tain degree  and  character  of  appetite 
not  infrequently  leads  to  consulting 
the  physician.  Still  more  common  is 
the  obsession  that  the  appetite  must 
be  gratified,  the  supposition  being 
that  the  desire  for  food  is,  in  the 
growing  child  or  in  the  adult,  an  in- 
fallible guide  to  the  amount  needed, 
though  it  is  a  matter  of  common 
knowledge  that  this  is  not  true  of 
infants  or  of  domestic  animals.  If 
one  leaves  the  table  hungry  he  soon 
forgets  it  unless  inordinately  self- 
centered,  and  he  has  no  more  desire  to 
return  than  to  go  back  to  bed  and 
finish  the  nap  so  reluctantly  discon- 
tinued in  the  morning. 

I  have  heard  the  theory  advanced 
by  an  anxious  forecaster  of  future 
ills,  that  all  unnecessary  food,  if 
packed  away  as  adipose  tissue,  serves 

194 


THE  WORRIER  AT  THE  TABLE 

to  nourish  the  body  in  periods  of 
starvation.  Assuming  that  the  aver- 
age individual  need  consider  this 
stress  of  circumstance,  I  am  strongly 
of  the  impression  that  the  best  prepa- 
ration for  enforced  abstinence  will 
prove,  not  a  layer  of  fat,  but  the  habit 
of  abstinence.  The  nursery  poet 
says: 

"  The  worry  cow  would  have  lived  till  now 

If  she'd  only  saved  her  breath. 
She  feared  the  hay  wouldn't  last  all  day 
So  choked  herself  to  death." 

The  quantity  of  food  proved  by 
experiment  to  suffice  for  the  best 
work,  physical  or  mental,  is  surpris- 
ingly small.  A  feeling  of  emptiness, 
even,  is  better  preparation  for  active 
exercise  than  one  of  satiety. 

It  is  a  national  obsession  with  us 
that  no  meal  is  complete  without 
meat.  Order  fruit,  a  cereal,  rolls  and 
coffee,  at  the  hotel  some  morning,  and 

195 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  the 
waiter  will  ask  what  you  are  going  to 
have  for  breakfast,  though  you  have 
already  ordered  more  than  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  for  that  meal,  as 
demonstrated  by  the  custom  upon  the 
Continent,  where  the  sense  of  fitness 
is  as  much  violated  by  the  consump- 
tion of  an  enormous  breakfast  as  it  is 
with  us  by  the  omission  of  a  single 
detail. 

It  may  be  asked  if  it  is  not  sub- 
versive of  discipline  for  the  hotel 
Jidbitue  to  become  too  easy-going. 
There  is  doubtless  a  limit  to  the  virtue 
of  allowing  ourselves  to  be  imposed 
upon,  but  there  is  little  fear  that  the 
individual  who  opens  the  question 
will  err  in  this  direction.  It  behooves 
him  rather  to  consider  the  danger  of 
his  occupying  the  unenviable  position 
of  the  "  fuss-budget. " 

196 


XIV. 

THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

WE  must  be  steadfast,  Julian!  Satan  is  very 
busy  in  all  of  us. 

IBSEN  :  Emperor  and  Galilean. 

FEW,  perhaps,  among  the  high- 
strung  and  delicately  organized  can 
truly  say  that  this  fear  has  never 
occurred  to  them.  It  affects  even 
children,  at  an  age  when  their  minds 
are  supposed  to  be  taken  up  with  the 
pleasures  and  pursuits  appropriate  to 
their  years.  This  fear  is  generally 
dispelled  by  the  serious  occupations 
of  life,  but  in  certain  cases  it  per- 
sists as  an  insistent  and  compelling 
thought. 

It  may  afford  consolation  to  know 
that  insanity  results,  in  the  majority 
of  cases,  from  physical  disease  of 

197 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  brain,  and  that  it  is  ordinarily 
unanticipated,  unsuspected  and  un- 
credited  by  the  patient.  There  is  no 
more  danger  of  insanity  attacking  the 
worrier  and  the  delicate  than  the 
robust  and  the  indifferent.  In  fact, 
the  temperament  which  produces  the 
faulty  habits  we  are  considering 
rarely  culminates  in  insanity.  It 
seems  worth  while,  however,  to  re- 
place the  vague  fear  of  insanity  by 
a  knowledge  of  the  variety  of  mental 
unbalance  remotely  threatening  the 
person  who  lacks  the  desire  or  the 
will,  to  place  a  check  upon  these 
faulty  habits  of  mind.  We  may  thus, 
in  the  worrier  whose  fears  have  taken 
this  direction,  substitute  effort  for 
foreboding. 

It  is  our  conduct  rather  than  our 
thoughts  that  determines  the  question 
of  insanity.  The  most  practical  defini- 

198 


THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

tion  of  insanity  I  know  is  that  of 
Spitzka,  the  gist  of  which  is  that  a 
person  is  insane  who  can  no  longer 
correctly  register  impressions  from 
the  outside  world,  or  can  no  longer 
act  upon  those  impressions  so  as  to 
formulate  and  carry  out  a  line  of 
conduct  consistent  with  his  age,  edu- 
cation and  station. 

The  banker  may  repeat  the  process 
of  locking  and  unlocking,  even  to  the 
point  of  doubting  his  own  sensations, 
but  he  may  still  be  able  to  formulate, 
and  carry  out,  a  line  of  conduct 
consistent  with  his  position,  though 
at  the  expense  of  intense  mental 
suffering. 

In  the  realm  of  morbid  fears,  the 
person  obsessed  by  fear  of  contamina- 
tion shows  no  sign  of  insanity  in 
using  tissue  paper  to  turn  the  door- 
knob, or  in  avoiding  objects  that  have 

199 


WHY  WORRY? 

been  touched  by  others.  Up  to  this 
point  his  phobia  has  led  merely  to 
eccentricity,  but  suppose  his  fear  so 
far  dominates  him  that  he  can  no 
longer  pursue  his  occupation  for  fear 
of  handling  tools  or  pen,  and  that  he 
persistently  refuses  to  eat  through 
fear  of  poison,  he  has  then  reached 
the  point  where  he  can  no  longer 
formulate  lines  of  conduct,  and  he  is 
insane. 

It  is,  then,  important  to  foresee  the 
tendency  of  phobias,  and  to  accustom 
one's  self  to  the  point  of  view  that  the 
worst  possible  harm,  for  example 
from  contamination  by  ordinary  ob- 
jects, is  no  worse  than  mental  unbal- 
ance, and  that  the  probable  conse- 
quences thereof  (nil)  are  infinitely 
preferable. 

Even  with  regard  to  more  tangible 

fears,  as  of  elevators,  fires,  tunnels, 
200 


THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

thunder-storms,  and  the  like,  a  cer- 
tain tranquillity  may  be  gradually 
attained  by  a  similar  philosophy. 
Suppose  instead  of  dwelling  on  the 
possibility  of  frightful  disaster  the 
sufferer  practices  saying:  "The 
worst  that  can  happen  to  me  is  no 
worse  than  for  me  to  let  these  fears 
gradually  lessen  my  sphere  of  opera- 
tions till  I  finally  shut  myself  up  in 
my  chamber  and  become  a  confirmed 
hypochondriac."  One  should  also 
remember  that  many  another  shares 
his  fears,  but  shows  no  sign  because 
he  keeps  a  " stiff  upper  lip,"  an  ex- 
ample he  will  do  well  to  follow,  not 
only  for  his  own  eventual  comfort, 
but  for  the  sake  of  his  influence  on 
others,  particularly  on  those  younger 
than  himself.  The  pursuance  of  this 
line  of  thought  may  result  in  the 

former   coward  seeking  instead   of 
201 


WHY  WORRY? 

avoiding,  opportunities  to  ride  in 
elevators  and  tunnels,  and  even  to 
occupy  an  inside  seat  at  the  theatre, 
just  to  try  his  new-found  power,  and 
to  rejoice  in  doing  as  others  do 
instead  of  being  set  apart  as  a  hope- 
less crank. 

These  fears  bear  directly  on  the 
question  of  hypochondria.  We  have 
already  seen  how  the  sphere  of  the 
hypochondriac  is  narrowed.  His 
work  and  his  play  are  alike  impeded 
by  his  fear  of  drafts,  of  wet  feet,  of 
loud  noises,  of  palpitation,  of  exhaus- 
tion, of  pain,  and  eventually  of 
serious  disease.  Is  he  insane?  Not 
so  long  as  he  can  carry  out  a  line  of 
conduct  consistent  with  his  station 
and  surroundings. 

It  is  remarkable  how  many  obses- 
sions we  may  harbor  without  causing 
us  to  swerve  from  our  accustomed 

202 


THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

line  of  conduct.  Whatever  our 
thoughts,  our  conduct  may  be  such 
that  we  attract  little  attention  beyond 
the  passing  observation  that  we  are  a 
little  odd.  We  may  break  down,  it  is 
true,  under  the  double  load  we  carry, 
but  we  are  in  little  danger  of  insanity. 
Those  established  in  the  conviction 
that  they  cannot  stand  noises  or  other 
sources  of  discomfort,  rarely  reach 
the  point  of  a  certain  poor  old  lady 
who  used  to  wander  from  clinic  to 
clinic,  able  to  think  of  nothing  else, 
and  to  talk  of  nothing  else,  than  the 
ringing  in  her  ears,  and  to  attend  to 
no  other  business  than  efforts  for  its 
relief.  She  was  counselled  again  and 
again  that  since  nothing  was  to  be 
found  in  the  ears  she  should  endeavor 
to  reconcile  herself  to  the  inevitable, 
and  turn  her  thoughts  in  other  direc- 
tions. Unfortunately,  she  had  become 

203 


WHY  WORRY? 

peculiarly  adept  in  the  detection  of 
disagreeable  sights,  sounds,  and  other 
sources  of  irritation,  and  had  for  a 
long  term  of  years  practiced  quite 
the  opposite  of  control.  She  had 
hitherto  either  insisted  on  discontinu- 
ance of  all  sources  of  irritation,  fled 
their  neighborhood,  or  put  on  blue 
glasses  and  stopped  her  ears  with 
cotton.  When,  finally,  her  sharpened 
sense  caught  the  sound  of  her  own 
circulation,  she  could  think  of  noth- 
ing but  this  unavoidable  source  of 
discomfort,  which  was  prepared  to 
follow  her  to  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth. 

A  well-known  author  has  said  that 
the  difference  between  sanity  and 
insanity  depends  only  on  the  power  to 
conceal  the  emotions.  While  this 
definition  will  hardly  pass  in  law  or 
medicine,  it  surely  offers  food  for 

204 


THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

thought.  Suppose  for  a  moment  that 
we  were  dominated  by  the  impulse  to 
externalize  all  our  thoughts  and  all 
our  emotions,  there  would  be  some 
basis  for  the  common,  but  inaccurate, 
saying  that  everyone  is  insane. 

This  brings  us  to  a  form  of  insanity 
which  the  obsessive  may  well  bear  in 
mind,  namely,  that  known  as  manic- 
depressive.  This  disorder,  in  its 
typical  form,  is  shown  by  recurring 
outbursts  of  uncontrollable  mental 
and  physical  activity  (mania),  alter- 
nating with  attacks  of  profound  de- 
pression (melancholia).  This  form 
of  insanity  represents  the  inability  to 
control  an  extreme  degree  of  the 
varied  moods  to  which  we  all  are 
subject.  Long  before  the  modern 
classification  of  mental  disorders, 
Burton,  in  his  introduction  to  the 
"  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,"  expressed 
this  alternation  of  moods  thus : 

205 


WHY  WORRY? 

"  When  I  go  musing  all  alone, 
Thinking  of  divers  things  foreknown, 
When  I  build  castles  in  the  ayr, 
Void  of  sorrow  and  void  of  feare, 
Pleasing  myself  with  phantasms  sweet, 
Me  thinks  the  time  runs  very  fleet. 
All  my  joyes  to  this  are  folly, 
Naught  so  sweet  as  melancholy. 

"  When  I  lie  waking  all  alone, 
Recounting  what  I  have  ill  done, 
My  thoughts  on  me  they  tyrannize, 
Feare  and  sorrow  me  surprise, 
Whether  I  tarry  still  or  go, 
Me  thinks  the  time  moves  very  slow. 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly, 
Naught  so  sad  as  melancholy." 
*  »  »  »  » 

"  I  '11  not  change  my  life  with  any  King, 
I  ravisht  am:    can  the  world  bring 

More  joy,  than  still  to  laugh  and  smile. 

In  pleasant  toyes  time  to  beguile? 
Do  not,  O  do  not  trouble  me, 
So  sweet  content  I  feel  and  see. 

All  my  joyes  to  this  are  folly, 

None  so  divine  as  melancholy. 

"  I'll  change  my  state  with  any  wretch 
Thou  canst  from  goale  or  dunghill  fetch: 
My  pain's  past  cure,  another  hell, 
I  may  not  in  this  torment  dwell, 
Now  desperate  I  hate  my  life, 
Lend  me  a  halter  or  a  knife; 
All  my  griefs  to  this  are  jolly, 
None  so  damn'd  as  melancholy." 

206 


THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

The  depressed  stage  of  this  dis- 
order is  commonly  shown  by  retarda- 
tion of  thought  and  motion,  the 
excited  stage  by  pressure  of  activity 
and  acceleration  of  thought.  In  the 
so-called  "  flight  of  ideas "  words  suc- 
ceed each  other  with  incredible 
rapidity,  without  goal  idea,  but  each 
word  suggesting  the  next  by  sound  or 
other  association,  thus : 

"Are  you  blue?" 

"Blue,  true  blue,  red  white  and 
blue,  one  flag  and  one  nation,  one 
kingdom,  one  king,  no  not  one  king, 
one  president,  we  are  going  to  have  a 
president  first,  cursed,  the  worst." 

Who  does  not  recognize  the  modest 
prototype  of  this  elaborate  rigmarole 
chasing  itself  through  his  mind  as  he 
walks  the  street  in  jaunty  mood,  and 
who  of  us  would  not  surprise  and 
alarm  his  friends  if  he  should  sud- 

207 


WHY  WORRY? 

denly  let  go  his  habitual  control, 
express  his  every  thought  and  ma- 
terialize his  every  passing  impulse  to 
action  ?  Who  can  doubt  that  the  per- 
son who  has  trained  himself  for  years 
to  repress  his  obsessions  is  less  likely 
to  give  way  to  this  form  of  insanity 
than  one  who  has  never  practiced 
such  training  ?  Let  us  then  endeavor 
to  pursue  "the  even  tenor  of  our 
way"  without  giving  way  to  the  obses- 
sion that  we  must  inflict  our  feelings 
upon  our  associates.  We  may  in  this 
way  maintain  a  mental  balance  that 
shall  stand  us  in  good  stead  in  time  of 
stress. 

The  autumnal  tendency  to  melan- 
choly is  recognized  by  Thoreau.  The 
characteristic  suggestion  of  this  nat- 
ure-lover is  that  the  melancholic  go 
to  the  woods  and  study  the  symplo- 
carpus  fcetidus  (skunk  cabbage), 

208 


THE  FEAR  OF  BECOMING  INSANE 

whose  English  name  savors  of  con- 
tempt, but  whose  courage  is  such  that 
it  is  already  in  the  autumn  jauntily 
thrusting  forth  its  buds  for  the  com- 
ing year. 

An  admirable  reflection  for  the  vic- 
tim of  moods,  as  for  many  another,  is 
the  old  saying  in  which  Abraham 
Lincoln  is  said  to  have  taken  peculiar 
comfort,  namely,  "And  this  too  shall 
pass  away." 


14  209 


XV. 

RECAPITULATORY 

AND  found  no  end  in  wandering  mazes  lost. 

Paradite  Lost. 

WE  have  reviewed  the  various 
phases  of  worry  and  the  elements  out 
of  which  worry  is  assembled.  It  has 
been  seen  that  exaggerated  self -con- 
sciousness blocks  effort  through  fear 
of  criticism,  ridicule  or  comment. 
The  insistent  habit  of  mind  in  the 
worrier  has  been  found  to  permeate 
the  content  of  thought,  and  unfavor- 
ably to  influence  action.  The  fact  has 
been  pointed  out  that  the  obsession  to 
do  the  right  thing  may  be  carried  so 
far  as  to  produce  querulous  doubt  and 
chronic  indecision — hence  worry. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  that  over- 
anxiety  on  the  score  of  health  (hypo- 
210 


RECAPITULATORY 

chondria)  aggravates  existing  symp- 
toms, and  itself  develops  symptoms; 
that  these  symptoms  in  turn  increase 
the  solicitude  which  gave  them  birth. 
Attention  has  been  called  to  the  influ- 
ence of  over-anxious  and  fretful  days 
in  precluding  the  restful  state  of 
mind  that  favors  sleep,  and  to  the 
influence  of  the  loss  of  sleep  upon  the 
anxieties  of  the  following  day;  in 
other  words,  worry  prevents  sleep, 
and  inability  to  sleep  adds  to  worry. 

We  have  seen  that  doubts  of  fitness 
lead  to  unfitness,  and  that  the  worry 
of  such  doubts,  combined  with  futile 
regrets  for  the  past  and  forebodings 
for  the  future,  hamper  the  mind 
which  should  be  cleared  for  present 
action. 

The  injurious  effect  upon  the  nerv- 
ous system  of  these  faulty  mental 

states  has  been  emphasized,  together 
211 


WHY  V7ORRY? 

with  their  influence  as  potent  under- 
lying causes  of  so-called  nervous  pros- 
tration, preparing  the  worrier  for 
breakdown  from  an  amount  of  work 
which,  if  undertaken  with  tranquil 
mind,  could  have  been  accomplished 
with  comparative  ease. 

The  question  is,  will  the  possessor 
of  these  faulty  mental  tendencies 
grasp  the  importance  of  giving 
thought  to  the  training  that  shall  free 
him  from  the  incubus  ?  He  certainly 
has  the  intelligence,  for  it  is  among 
the  intelligent  that  these  states  are 
mostly  found;  he  certainly  has  the 
will-power,  for  lack  of  will-power  is 
not  a  failing  of  the  obsessed.  The 
question  is,  can  he  bring  himself  to 
make,  at  the  suggestion  of  another,  a 
fundamental  change  of  attitude,  and 
will  he  take  these  suggestions  on 

faith,    though    many    seem    trivial, 
212 


RECAPITULATORY 

others,  perhaps,  unreasonable,  and 
will  he  at  least  give  them  a  trial  ?  I 
hope  so. 

In  the  next  sections  will  be  summed 
up  such  commonplace  and  simple 
suggestions  as  may  aid  emergence 
from  the  maze  of  worry.  Many  of 
the  suggestions  have  been  scattered 
through  preceding  sections.  The 
worrier  and  folly-doubter  is  more 
likely  to  be  benefited  by  trying  them 
than  by  arguing  about  them,  and  it  is 
within  the  realms  of  possibility  that 
some  may  come  to  realize  the  truth  of 
the  paradox  that  he  who  loses  himself 
shall  find  himself. 


213 


XVI. 

MAXIMS  MISAPPLIED 

"  BEWABE  !   yet  once   again  beware ! 

Ere  round  thy  inexperienced  mind, 
With  voice  and  semblance  falsely  fair, 

A  chain  Thessalian  magic  bind, " 

Thomas  Love  Peacock. 

A  FRIEND  of  mine  has  a  high- 
bred Boston  terrier  named  " Betty." 
Betty  is  a  bundle  of  nerves,  has  a 
well-developed  "  New-England  Con- 
science," and  among  other  deviative 
(not  degenerative)  signs  is  possessed 
of  an  insatiate  desire  to  climb  trees. 
More  than  once  I  have  watched  her 
frantic  efforts  to  achieve  this  end,  and 
she  really  almost  succeeds — at  least 
she  can  reach  a  higher  point  on  the 
trunk  of  a  tree  than  any  other  dog  of 
her  size  I  know — say  six  feet;  if  the 
bark  is  rough,  perhaps  seven  feet 

214 


MAXIMS  MISAPPLIED 

would  not  be  an  overestimate.  Her 
attempts  are  unremitting — once  the 
frenzy  is  on  it  is  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  that  she  can  be  separated, 
panting  and  exhausted,  from  her  task. 
Betty's  case  furnishes  an  illustra- 
tion of  an  inborn  tendency,  fostered 
neither  by  precept  nor  example,  per- 
sistently to  attempt  the  impossible, 
and  to  fret  and  fume  when  forced  to 
discontinue.  Some  children  are  by 
inheritance  similarly  endowed.  Im- 
agine Betty  a  child.  It  is  safe  to 
assume  that  the  mental  trait  which 
prompts  this  expenditure  of  tireless 
and  misdirected  energy  has  sifted 
down  through  her  ancestry;  the 
chances  are,  of  course,  against  its  hav- 
ing skipped  the  generation  immedi- 
ately preceding;  in  other  words,  one 
or  both  her  parents  are  probably 
obsessive.  It  follows  almost  as  a 

215 


WHY  WORRY? 

matter  of  course  that  the  "indomit- 
able will"  of  the  child  is  viewed  with 
pride  by  the  parent.  Instead  of  being 
kept  within  reasonable  bounds,  and 
directed  into  proper  channels,  it  is 
encouraged  in  every  direction,  and 
fostered  by  every  available  means. 
Prominent  among  the  incentives  to 
renewed  activity  furnished  by  the 
solicitous  parent,  possibly  by  the  un- 
discriminating  teacher,  will  be  found 
such  precepts  as:  "In  the  bright 
lexicon  of  youth  there's  no  such  word 
as  fail,"  "Don't  give  up  the  ship," 
"Never  say  die,"  "There's  always 
room  at  the  top." 

Excellent  maxims  these,  for  the 
average  child,  particularly  for  the 
child  who  is  under  average  as  regards 
ambition  to  excel.  But  what  of  their 
effect  upon  the  already  over-con- 
scientious and  self -exacting  child? 


MAXIMS  MISAPPLIED 

Simply  to  tighten  fetters  which 
should  rather  be  relaxed. 

Life  becomes  a  serious  problem  to 
a  child  of  this  kind  at  a  much  earlier 
age  than  is  generally  realized.  I  have 
been  surprised  to  learn  at  what  tender 
years  such  children  have  been  borne 
down  by  a  weight  of  self-imposed 
responsibility  quite  as  heavy  as  can 
burden  an  adult,  without  the  power  of 
the  adult  to  carry  it.  Such,  for  ex- 
ample, are  anxieties  regarding  the 
health  or  the  financial  status  of  the 
parents,  matters  freely  discussed 
without  a  thought  that  the  child  will 
make  these  cares  his  own. 

I  realize  that  this  line  of  thought 
will  seem  to  some  revolutionary.  A 
friend  to  whom  I  submitted  the 
proposition  that  it  did  harm  rather 
than  good  to  encourage  a  child  of  this 
kind  to  attempt  the  impossible  an- 

217 


WHY  WORRY? 

swered,  " Nothing  is  impossible,"  and 
he  said  it  as  if  he  more  than  half 
believed  it.  Here  we  have  the  am- 
bitious maxim  challenging  truth  it- 
self. It  is  certainly  not  impossible 
that  Mozart  wrote  a  difficult  concerto 
at  the  age  of  five ;  nor  is  it  impossible 
that,  in  precocious  children  of  a  dif- 
ferent type,  worry  from  failure  to 
accomplish  the  desired  may  cause 
profound  despair  productive  of  dis- 
astrous results. 

Nor  are  such  children  either 
geniuses  or  freaks — they  are  merely 
inheritors  of  the  "New  England 
Conscience,"  so  named,  I  suppose, 
because  the  trait  has  multiplied  in 
this  section  more  rapidly  even  than 
the  furniture  and  fittings  of  the  May- 
flower. Without  underrating  the 
sterling  qualities  of  the  devoted  band 
who  founded  this  community  it  may 

218 


MAXIMS  MISAPPLIED 

safely  be  suggested  that  neither  the 
effectiveness  nor  the  staying  qualities 
of  their  descendants  will  be  lessened 
by  a  certain  modification  of  the  quer- 
ulous insistence  which  dominates  the 
overtrained  adult  in  the  rearing  of 
the  nervously  precocious  child. 

The  maxim  "What  is  worth  doing 
at  all  is  worth  doing  well,"  if  carried 
to  its  ultimate  conclusion  by  the  over- 
careful,  would  justify  the  expendi- 
ture of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  sharp- 
ening a  lead-pencil.  This  maxim, 
while  losing  in  sententiousness  would 
gain  in  reason  if  it  ran  thus :  "What 
is  worth  doing  at  all  is  worth  doing 
as  well  as  the  situation  demands." 
"Never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what 
you  can  do  to-day,"  an  excellent 
maxim  for  the  shiftless,  must  not  be 
taken  too  literally  by  the  individual 
already  obsessed  to  do  to-day  twice 

219 


WHY  WORRY? 

what  he  can  and  quadruple  what  he 
ought. 

Neither  the  chronic  doubter  nor  the 
prematurely  thoughtful  need  be  ad- 
monished, "Look  before  you  leap," 
or  "Be  sure  you're  right,  then  go 
ahead."  Such  guides  to  conduct, 
however  effective  in  the  case  of  three 
individuals,  in  the  fourth  hinder  ac- 
complishment by  encouraging  quer- 
ulous doubt; — it  is  for  the  benefit 
of  the  fourth  that  these  pages  are 
written.  A  revolutionary  effort  must 
be  made  before  the  worrier  and 
the  folly-doubter  can  throw  off  his 
shackles. 

It  may  be  questioned  whether  this 
sort  of  philosophy  does  not  savor  of 
laissez-faire,  and  tend  to  produce  in- 
difference; but  the  worry  against 
which  these  efforts  are  directed  is  a 

state  of  undue  solicitude, — due  solici- 
220 


MAXIMS  MISAPPLIED 

tude  is  not  discouraged.  Fortunately, 
as  partial  offset  to  the  many  maxims 
stirring  to  increased  activity,  there 
exist  certain  maxims  of  less  stren- 
uous, but  not  unreasonable,  trend, 
thus : — "  What  can't  be  cured  must  be 
endured,"  "Patient  waiters  are  no 
losers."  Such  maxims  are  quite  as 
worthy  of  consideration  by  the  obses- 
sive as  any  of  those  previously  cited. 
While  they  modify  overzeal,  they  de- 
tract in  no  way  from  effective,  even 
strenuous,  endeavor. 


221 


xvn. 

THE  FAD 

"  FADS  may  be  said  to  constitute  a  perfect  mental 
antitoxin    for    the     poison    generated    by    cerebral 

activity-"  Courtney. 

THERE  is  nothing  occult  in  the  sug- 
gestion that  the  worrier  cultivate  a 
fad.*  Its  object  is  to  interest  him 
in  something  outside  of  himself  and 
of  the  monotony  of  his  accustomed 
round.  If  it  seems  to  him  too  much 
trouble  to  enter  upon  the  details  of 
the  fad  there  is  all  the  more  reason 
for  freeing  himself  from  such  mental 
inertia. 

How  shall  we  set  to  work  to  acquire 
a  fad,  without  special  opportunity  or 
education,  and  with  but  little  time  at 
our  disposal?  Suppose  we  take  the 
study  of  botany  as  an  illustration,  not 

*  The  word   "  hobby "   would   perhaps   have   been 
preferable  for  the  English  reader. 
222 


THE  PAD 

necessitating  class  instruction.  This 
useful  study  may  be  made  also  a 
charming  fad,  and  one  not  beneath 
the  notice  of  so  learned  and  busy  a 
man  as  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  who  found 
time  and  inclination  to  write  an  essay 
"Of  Gardens, "  in  which  he  mentions 
by  name  and  shows  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with,  over  one  hundred  distinct 
varieties  of  plant  life. 

'Sir  John  Lubbock  (the  Bight  Hon- 
ourable Lord  Avebury)  in  "The 
Pleasures  of  Life,"  says: 

"The  botanist,  on  the  contrary — 
nay,  I  will  not  say  the  botanist,  but 
one  with  even  a  slight  knowledge  of 
that  delightful  science — when  he  goes 
out  into  the  woods,  or  out  into  one  of 
those  fairy  forests  which  we  call 
fields,  finds  himself  welcomed  by  a 
glad  company  of  friends,  every  one 
with  something  interesting  to  tell.1 


.  COULLlg     LU     tCU. 

223 


WHY  WORRY? 

There  are  two  ways  of  cultivating 
botanical  as  well  as  other  knowledge ; 
namely,  the  passive  and  the  active. 
The  passive  method  is  to  let  someone 
inform  us;  the  active  is  to  find  out 
something  for  ourselves.  The  latter 
is  the  only  effective  method.  Suppose 
we  start  with  the  wild  flowers : 

The  first  step  is  to  purchase  a 
popular  illustrated  book  on  this  sub- 
ject, preferably  one  in  which  the 
flowers  are  arranged  according  to 
color.  We  first  learn,  in  the  intro- 
duction, the  principal  parts  of  the 
flower,  as  the  calyx,  the  corolla,  the 
stamen  and  the  pistil.  We  find  that 
the  arrangements  of  leaves  and 
flowers  are  quite  constant,  that  the 
leaves  of  some  plants  are  opposite, 
of  others  alternate;  of  still  others 
from  the  root  only,  that  flowers  are 

224 


THE  FAB 

solitary,  in  raceme,  head,  spike  or 
otherwise  clustered. 

It  now  behooves  us  to  take  a  walk 
upon  a  country  road  with  our  eyes 
open  and  our  book  under  our  arm. 
Along  the  roadsides  passing  vehicles 
have  scattered  the  seeds  of  many 
flowering  plants.  "We  decide  to  pick 
and  learn  the  first  white  blossom  we 
see.  This  blossom  appears,  we  will 
say,  upon  a  plant  about  a  foot  high. 
We  notice  that  its  leaves  are  opposite, 
that  its  corolla  has  five  petals  and 
that  its  calyx  is  inflated.  We  now 
look  through  the  section  on  white 
flowers.  The  first  plant  described  has 
leaves  from  the  root  only ;  the  second 
is  a  tall  shrub,  these  we  pass,  there- 
fore, and  continue  until  we  find  one 
answering  the  description,  leaves  op- 
posite, calyx  inflated,  corolla  of  five 
petals.  When  we  reach  it  we  have 

16  225 


WHY  WORRY? 

identified  the  plant;  we  now  feel  a 
sense  of  ownership  in  the  Bladder 
Campion,  and  are  quite  shocked  when 
our  friend  calls  it  only  "a  weed." 
Meantime  we  have  noted  many  fa- 
miliar names  and  some  familiar  illus- 
trations which  we  must  identify  on 
our  next  ramble. 

On  consulting  our  timepiece  we 
find  that  we  have  absolutely  spent  a 
couple  of  hours  in  complete  forget- 
fulness  of  the  daily  grind,  to  say 
nothing  of  having  filled  our  lungs 
with  comparatively  fresh  air,  and 
having  taken  a  little  exercise.  Best 
of  all,  we  have  started  a  new  set  of 
associations ;  we  have  paved  the  way 
for  new  acquaintances,  Linnaeus, 
Gray,  Dioscorides  and  Theophrastus, 
to  say  nothing  of  our  friend  so-and-so 
whom  we  always  thought  rather  tire- 
some but  with  whom  we  now  have 

226 


THE  FAD 

something  in  common.  We  shall  take 
up  our  daily  grind  to-morrow  with 
a  new  zest  for  having  forgotten  it  for 
a  few  hours,  and  find  it  less  of  a  grind 
than  usual;  moreover,  we  now  have 
an  object  to  encourage  another  stroll 
in  the  country. 

If  we  continue  as  we  have  begun 
we  shall  soon  find  ourselves  prying 
into  the  more  scientific  works  on 
botany,  and  perhaps  eventually  ex- 
tending our  interest  to  the  birds,  the 
beasts  and  the  boulders.  One  of  these 
days  we  may  become  quite  proficient 
amateur  naturalists,  but  this  is  only 
by  the  way;  the  real  advantage  to 
us  has  been  the  externalizing  of  our 
interests. 

This  is  the  most  desultory  way  pos- 
sible of  cultivating  the  fad.  One  may 
go  a  step  further  and  transplant  the 
wild  flowers  and  the  weeds.  A  busy 

227 


WHY  WORRY? 

and  successful  professional  friend  of 
mine,  besides  having  a  cabinet  shop 
in  his  stable,  finds  (or  makes)  time 
to  go  to  the  woods  with  his  trowel. 
He  has  quite  a  wild-flower  bank  in 
his  garden.  I  cannot  give  definite 
directions  as  to  their  setting  out — 
I  think  he  just  throws  them  down 
anywhere — a  fair  percentage  seem  to 
thrive, — I  can  remember  the  larger 
bur-marigold,  the  red  and  white  bane- 
berry,  rattlesnake-weed,  rattlesnake- 
plantain,  blood  root,  live-for-ever, 
wood  betony,  pale  corydalis,  and 
fern-leaved  foxglove,  and  there  are 
many  more. 

Mushrooms  and  ferns  offer  fertile 
fields  for  special  study.  If  the  wor- 
rier has  an  altruistic  turn  he  will  find 
satisfaction  in  bestowing  duplicates 
upon  his  friends,  thus  still  further 
externalizing  his  interests.  He  will 

228 


THE  FAD 

be  surprised  to  find  how  many  things 
there  are  in  the  world  that  he  never 
noticed. 

Whether  our  tastes  lead  us  in  the 
direction  of  photography,  pottery, 
mechanics,  collecting  china,  books  and 
old  furniture,  of  philosophy  or  a 
foreign  language,  we  need  not  aim  to 
pursue  these  avocations  too  pro- 
foundly. We  must  not  compare  our 
acquisitions  with  those  of  the  savant 
or  the  skilled  laborer,  but  must  con- 
sole ourselves  with  the  reflection  that 
we  at  least  know  more,  or  can  do 
more,  than  yesterday.  If  our  fads, 
now  and  then,  make  us  do  something 
that  gives  us  a  little  trouble,  so  much 
the  better,  if  it  is  only  to  go  to  the 
library  for  a  book, — the  worrier 
whose  idea  of  rest  and  recuperation  is 
to  remain  forever  glued  to  an  easy- 
chair  is  indeed  to  be  pitied. 

229 


WHY  WORRY? 

Collecting  old  prints,  stamps,  and 
coins,  is  by  no  means  a  waste  of  time. 
Fads  of  this  nature  offer  the  addi- 
tional inducement  of  an  asset  which 
may  serve,  in  a  material  way,  to 
banish  worry  in  time  of  stress.  To 
reap  the  full  advantage  of  the  collec- 
tion fads  one  should  take  pains  to 
acquire  a  knowledge  of  the  geography 
and  history  with  which  they  are  asso- 
ciated. Few  are  so  unfortunately 
placed  that  they  have  no  access  to 
information  on  these  subjects.  The 
encyclopaedia,  at  least,  is  within 
general  reach,  though  rarely  con- 
sulted by  those  who  most  need  its  aid. 

Suppose  one  takes  up  history  for 
an  indoor  fad.  How  shall  he  start 
in  ?  Since  he  pursues  this  study  only 
as  a  fad,  he  can  commence  almost 
anywhere.  Let  him  decide  to  become 
familiar  with  the  fifteenth  century. 

230 


THE  FAD 

The  first  step  is  to  familiarize  himself 
with  the  principal  rulers  and  the 
principal  battles  of  that  time.  Sup- 
pose he  spends  half  an  hour  every 
evening  upon  the  life  of  one  or 
another  ruler,  as  given  in  the  en- 
cyclopaedia or  elsewhere.  If  he  is 
sufficiently  inventive  to  construct  a 
pictorial  or  other  plan  in  which  to 
give  each  his  place,  so  much  the 
better.  Having  thus  constructed  a 
frame-work  he  can  begin  to  fill  in  the 
details,  and  now  the  study  begins  to 
interest  him.  At  any  public  library 
he  can  find  a  catalogue  of  historical 
fiction  arranged  according  to  cen- 
turies. Under  the  fifteenth  century 
he  will  find  Quentin  Durward,  The 
Broad  Arrow,  Anne  of  Geierstein, 
The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth,  Every 
Inch  a  King,  Marietta,  The  Dove  in 
the  Eagle's  Nest,  and  other  standard 

231 


WHY  WORRY? 

works,  all  of  which  he  may  have  read 
before,  but  every  page  of  which  will 
have  for  him  a  new  interest  since  he 
can  now  place  the  characters,  appreci- 
ate the  customs,  and  form  a  consis- 
tent picture  of  what  was  doing  in 
different  countries  at  this  time. 

The  next  step  is  to  acquire,  in  the 
same  way,  equal  familiarity  with  the 
preceding  and  succeeding  centuries, 
particularly  with  the  inter-relations 
of  the  different  countries,  old  and 
new. 

The  reader  who  has  followed  to 
this  point  will  need  no  further  hint. 
If  he  continues  as  he  has  begun,  he 
will  be  surprised  to  find  how  soon  he 
will  be  able  to  instruct,  on  one  subject 
at  least,  the  college  graduate,  unless 
that  graduate  has  happily  continued 
as  a  fad  what  he  once  perfunctorily 
acquired. 

232 


THE  FAD 

Another  way  of  commencing  this 
study,  and  the  one,  I  confess,  which 
appeals  more  to  me,  is  first  to  estab- 
lish a  framework  which  shall  cover 
a  long  period  of  time,  then  study  spe- 
cial epochs.  An  interesting  way  to 
start  this  method  is  to  purchase 
Creasy 's  "  Decisive  Battles  of  the 
World,"  and  familiarize  one's  self 
with  its  contents.  This  will  furnish 
pegs  on  which  to  hang  further  items 
of  information,  and  will  impart  a 
running  familiarity  with  different 
nations  involved  in  war  from  the  time 
of  the  supremacy  of  Greece,  down  to 
the  battle  of  Manila,  in  the  recent 
edition, — in  earlier  editions  to  the 
time  of  Napoleon. 

The  only  absolutely  essential  refer- 
ence book  for  this  study  is  Ploetz's 
"Epitome  of  Universal  History." 

To  make  this  fad  interesting,  the 

233 


WHY  WORRY? 

mere  commitment  to  memory  of  facts 
and  dates  will  not  suffice.  Items  of 
history  thus  acquired  will  inevitably 
fade.  The  conscientious  but  ill- 
advised  student  who  attempts  to  com- 
mit the  " Epitome"  to  memory  will 
fall  by  the  way-side.  Time  is  not 
wasted  in  dwelling  sufficiently  long 
on  one  subject  to  feel  a  sense  of 
ownership  in  it,  and  there  is  oppor- 
tunity for  the  exercise  of  individual 
ingenuity  in  devising  means  to  ac- 
complish this  end.  If  one  has  the 
knack,  for  example,  of  writing  non- 
sense verse  (and  this  is  a  talent  all  too 
easy  of  cultivation)  it  will  aid  him  in 
fixing  by  rhyme  names  and  dates 
otherwise  difficult  to  master,  thus : 

"Ten  sixty-six  is  a  date  you  must 
fix ; ' '  or  "  Drake  was  not  late  in  fifteen 
eighty-eight." 

The  study  of  music,  history,  trees, 

234 


THE  FAD 

flowers,  or  birds  doubtless  seems  of 
trivial  interest  to  one  who  occupies 
his  leisure  hours  with  such  weighty 
problems  as  figuring  out  how  rich  he 
would  have  been  to-day  if  he  had 
bought  Bell  Telephone  at  15,  but  such 
study  is  far  more  restful,  and  in  the 
long  run  quite  as  useful  for  the  over- 
busy  man. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  devote  an 
enormous  amount  of  time  to  such 
pursuits.  One  has  only  to  purchase 
Miss  Huntington's  "  Studies  of  Trees 
in  Winter"  and  learn  the  trees  in  his 
own  doorway,  or  upon  his  street,  to 
awaken  an  interest  that  will  serve 
him  in  good  stead  upon  a  railroad 
journey,  or  during  an  otherwise 
monotonous  sojourn  in  the  country. 
A  walk  around  the  block  before 
dinner  with  such  an  object  in  view  is 
more  restful  than  pondering  in  one's 

235 


WHY  WORRY? 

easy-chair  over  the  fluctuations  of  the 
stock  market,  and  the  man  who  is 
"too  busy"  for  such  mental  relaxa- 
tion is  paving  the  way  for  ultimate, 
perhaps  early,  breakdown. 

Once  started  on  the  trees,  the  man 
who  did  not  even  know  that  their 
buds  were  visible  in  the  winter,  after 
absorbing  the  contents  of  the  popular 
tree-books  may  find  himself  looking 
for  something  more  elaborate.  He 
may  even  look  forward  to  his  next 
western  trip  with  pleasure  instead  of 
disgust,  now  that  he  anticipates  see- 
ing at  close  hand  the  eucalyptus,  the 
Monterey  cypress,  and  the  pinus 
ponderosa. 

Courtney  says  "to  all  this  will 
undoubtedly  be  objected  the  plea  of 
lack  of  time.  The  answer  to  argu- 
ments formed  on  such  flimsy  basis  is 
that  all  the  time  which  is  spent  in 

236 


THE  FAD 

preparing  one's  self  as  a  candidate 
for  a  sanitarium  is  like  the  proverbial 
edged  tool  in  the  hands  of  children 
and  fools." 

A  little  time  spent  in  such  simple 
pursuits  as  I  have  indicated,  and  a 
few  weeks'  vacation  before  exhaus- 
tion appears,  may  prevent  a  year's 
enforced  abstinence  from  work  on 
account  of  nervous  invalidism.  I  am 
tempted  here  to  say  "A  stitch  in  time 
saves  nine,"  but  adages  are  some- 
times dangerous.  Thus  the  adage, 
"If  you  want  a  thing  well  done  you 
must  do  it  yourself,"  has  caused 
many  a  business  and  professional 
man  to  burden  himself  with  details 
which  in  the  long  run  he  might  better 
have  intrusted  to  subordinates,  even 
at  the  risk  of  an  occasional  blunder. 

It  is  not  wise  to  specialize  too  much 
in  the  pursuit  of  the  fad.  Suppose 

237 


WHY  WORRY? 

the  busy  man,  having  conceded  the 
value  of  some  out-of-door  study,  de- 
cides that  he  will  learn  the  lumber 
industry,  but  take  no  interest  in  the 
shade  trees.  He  will  not  materially 
broaden  his  interests  in  this  way.  He 
will  rather  add  to  his  burdens  another 
business.  If  he  applies  to  this  new 
business  the  same  conscientious  meth- 
ods which  are  wearing  him  out  in 
his  present  one,  the  value  of  the  fad 
is  gone,  the  new  study  has  done  him 
more  harm  than  good,  and  when  on 
his  vacation,  unless  there  is  a  sawmill 
in  the  neighborhood,  he  finds  himself 
stranded  with  only  worry  for  com- 
pany. Similarly,  if  the  study  of  his- 
tory is  taken  up  in  the  way  a  fad 
should  be  taken  up,  anything  in  the 
way  of  a  book  will  now  interest  the 
worrier,  for  hardly  a  book  worth 
reading  fails  to  contain  either  a  bit 

238 


THE  FAD 

of  travel,  geography,  biography, 
law,  or  something  on  manners  and 
customs. 

Permanent  freedom  from  worry 
involves  a  change  in  one's  whole  view 
of  life  and  method  of  thought.  But 
the  means  by  which  introspection 
may  be  temporarily  alleviated  are 
by  no  means  to  be  despised.  Among 
these  comes  the  pursuit  of  the  golf- 
ball.  Many  a  business  and  profes- 
sional man  who  thinks  he  has  no  time 
for  golf  can  easily  escape  for  an 
hour's  play  at  the  end  of  the  day, 
twice  a  week,  and  in  the  long  run  it 
will  prove  to  be  time  well  expended. 
In  point  of  fact,  most  are  hindered 
rather  by  the  notion  that  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  visit  the  links  unless 
one  can  play  eighteen  holes,  or  that 
it  is  not  worth  while  to  take  up  the 

239 


game  at  all  unless  one  can  excel. 
But  the  exercise  is  the  same,  and 
the  air  equally  bracing  whether  we 
\nn  or  lose;  the  shower-bath  will 
refresh  us  just  the  same  whether  we 
have  played  nine  holes  or  twenty- 
seven. 

The  automobile  ride,  the  drive,  and, 
best  of  all,  the  ride  on  horseback,  will 
often  serve  to  banish  the  vapors. 
Many  neglect  these  methods,  not  from 
lack  of  time  or  money,  but  from  in- 
disposition. 

A  busy  professional  man  recently 
assured  me  that  he  had  renewed  his 
youth  by  going  three  times  a  week  to 
the  gymnasium  and  joining  the  "old 
man 's  class. ' '  Here  is  an  opportunity 
open  to  practically  everyone;  it  is  a 
desirable  practice  if  continued.  The 
drawback  is  the  lack  of  incentive 
when  the  novelty  has  passed.  Such 

240 


THE  FAD 


incentive  is  furnished  by  the  fad,  in 
the  satisfaction  of  gaining  new 
knowledge  and  broadening  the 
thought-associations. 


18  241 


XVIII. 

HOME  TREATMENT 

SUBMIT    to   what   is   unavoidable,   banish   ths   im- 
possible from  the  mind,  and  look  around  for  some 

new  object  of  intereat  in  life. 

Goethe. 

IN  the  treatment  of  faulty  mental 
habits  the  chief  reliance  is  the  train- 
ing of  the  mind;  physical  measures 
are  merely  supplementary.  This  fact 
has  always  been  recognized  in  a  gen- 
eral way.  The  need  of  such  training 
was  emphasized  by  Epictetus  thus : 

"Not  to  be  disappointed  of  our 
desire,  nor  incur  our  aversion.  To 
this  ought  our  training  be  directed. 
For  without  vigorous  and  steady 
training,  it  is  not  possible  to  preserve 
our  desire  undisappointed  and  our 
aversion  unincurred." 

But  there  has  always  been  an  un- 

242 


HOME  TREATMENT 

dercurrent  of  dissatisfaction  with 
purely  mental  treatment,  and  a  desire 
for  the  drug,  wKich  has  more  than 
once,  doubtless,  been  prescribed  for 
the  purpose  of  " suggestion"  only. 

The  movement  for  psychic  treat- 
ment on  scientific  principles,  of 
faulty  mental  disorders,  not  of  or- 
ganic nature,  is  well  under  way. 
That  the  American  profession  takes 
an  active  interest  in  this  movement 
is  shown  by  the  exhaustive  paper  on 
psycho-therapy  by  Dr.  E.  W.  Taylor, 
recently  read  at  a  combined  meeting 
held  in  Boston  and  discussed  by  such 
representative  neurologists  as  Drs. 
Mills,  Dercum,  J.  K.  Mitchell,  and 
Sinkler,  of  Philadelphia ;  Drs.  Dana, 
Sachs,  Collins,  Hunt,  Meacham,  and 
Jelliffe,  of  New  York;  Dr.  White  of 
Washington,  and  Drs.  Putnam  and 
Prince,  of  Boston. 

243 


WHY  WORRY? 

Such  faulty  mental  habits  as  worry 
and  obsession,  doubting  folly,  and 
hypochondria,  are  no  more  amenable 
to  physical  treatment  than  the  habit 
of  swearing,  or  of  over-indulgence  in 
food  and  drink.  Even  the  psychic 
treatment,  by  another,  of  such  dis- 
orders, as  of  such  habits,  labors  under 
the  disadvantage  that  all  attempts  to 
influence  another  by  exhortation, 
ridicule,  or  reproach  are  met  by 
active  or  passive  resistance  on  the 
part  of  the  individual  toward  whom 
these  efforts  are  directed.  A  con- 
scientious resolve  on  the  part  of  the 
individual  himself,  whether  started 
by  a  casual  hint  or  by  a  new  line  of 
thought,  is  often  more  effective  than 
any  amount  of  outside  pressure,  how- 
ever well  directed. 

It  is  my  hope  and  belief  that  the 
over-solicitous  individual  will  be  in- 

244 


HOME  TREATMENT 

fluenced  by  reading  these  descrip- 
tions to  adopt,  of  his  own  initiative, 
some  of  these  suggestions.  His  most 
striking  peculiarity  is  his  conviction 
that  he  cannot  take  the  chances  others 
do,  that  the  criticisms  he  receives  are 
peculiarly  annoying,  and  that  his 
sources  of  worry  are  something  set 
apart  from  the  experience  of  or- 
dinary mortals.  This  conviction  leads 
him  to  meet  argument  by  argument, 
reproach  and  ridicule  by  indignant 
protest  or  brooding  silence.  The 
perusal  of  these  sections  may  lead 
him  to  alter  his  ideals.  Suggestions 
for  home  treatment  have  been  scat- 
tered through  the  various  pages;  it 
only  remains  to  sum  them  up. 

We  have  traced  worry  back  to 
exaggerated  self-consciousness  and 
obsession;  it  is  against  these  two 


245 


WHY  WORRY? 

faulty  tendencies  that  training  may 
be  directed. 

The  first  step  is  the  initiation  of  a, 
new  attitude,  namely,  the  common- 
place. The  establishment  of  this 
attitude  involves  the  sacrifice  of  self- 
love,  and  of  the  melancholy  pleasure 
of  playing  the  martyr.  The  over- 
sensitive individual  must  recognize 
the  fact  that  if  people  do  not  want 
him  round  it  may  be  because  he 
inflicts  his  ego  too  obtrusively  upon 
his  associates.  He  must  realize  that 
others  are  more  interested  in  their 
own  affairs  than  in  his,  and  that  how- 
ever cutting  their  comments  and 
unjust  their  criticisms,  and  however 
deeply  these  may  sink  into  his  soul, 
they  are  only  passing  incidents  with 
them. 

He  must  realize  that  if  two  people 
whisper  they  are  not  necessarily 

246 


HOME  TREATMENT 

whispering  about  him,  and  if  they  are 
it  is  of  no  consequence,  and  merely 
shows  their  lack  of  breeding.  On 
public  occasions  he  must  remember 
that  others  are  thinking  of  them- 
selves, or  of  the  subject  in  hand,  quite 
as  much  as  they  are  of  him  and  how 
he  behaves.  He  must  realize  that 
even  if  he  does  something  foolish  it 
will  only  make  a  passing  impression 
on  others,  and  that  they  will  like  him 
none  the  less  for  it. 

He  must  practice  externalizing  his 
thoughts.  If  criticised,  he  must  ask 
himself  whether  the  criticism  is  just 
or  unjust.  If  just,  he  must  learn  to 
accept  and  act  upon  it ;  if  unjust,  he 
must  learn  to  classify  the  critic,  as 
unreasonable,  thoughtless,  or  ill-na- 
tured, place  him  in  the  appropriate 
mental  compartment,  throw  the  criti- 
cism into  the  intellectual  waste-bas- 

247 


WHY  WORRY? 

ket,  and  proceed  upon  his  way.  This 
practice,  difficult  at  first,  will,  if 
assiduously  cultivated,  become  more 
and  more  automatic,  and  will  ma- 
terially modify  a  fruitful  source  of 
worry. 

The  next  step  is  to  practice  the 
control  of  the  dominating  impulses 
(obsessions).  If  one  finds  himself 
impelled  continually  to  drum,  or  walk 
the  floor,  he  will  find  the  habit  cannot 
be  dropped  at  once,  but  if  he  can 
refrain  from  it  for  a  few  moments 
once  or  twice  in  the  day,  no  matter 
how  lost  he  feels  without  it,  and  sit 
for  a  few  minutes  relaxed  and 
motionless,  the  intervals  can  be  grad- 
ually increased.  Even  the  chronic 
doubter  may  appreciate  the  fact  that 
this  practice  aids  in  preparing  one 
for  taking  and  keeping,  at  night,  the 
quiet  and  immobile  position  which 

248 


HOME  TREATMENT 

favors  sleep.  The  bearing  of  this 
training  upon  worry  may  not  be 
immediately  obvious,  but  if  one  can- 
not overcome  these  simple  physical 
compulsions  he  will  find  it  still  harder 
to  overcome  the  doubts,  the  fears,  and 
the  scruples  which  underlie  his 
worry. 

It  is  hard  to  give  up  the  idea  that 
we  are  so  peculiarly  constituted  that 
it  produces  a  special  disgust  in  our 
case  if  another  constantly  clears  his 
throat,  and  a  peculiar  annoyance  if 
he  rocks.  It  is  difficult  to  relinquish 
the  belief  that,  however  callous  others 
may  be,  our  nervous  system  is  so 
delicately  adjusted  that  we  cannot 
work  when  others  make  unnecessary 
noise,  and  we  cannot  sleep  if  a  clock 
ticks  in  our  hearing.  But  if  one  per- 
sistently cultivates  the  commonplace, 

249 


WHY  WORRY? 

he  will  at  last  find  himself  seeking 
instead  of  avoiding  the  objects  of  his 
former  torture,  merely  to  exercise  his 
new-found  mastery  of  himself,  and  to 
realize  that  "He  that  ruleth  his  spirit 
is  better  than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

It  is  the  imperative  duty  of  every 
sufferer  from  doubting  folly  to  say 
to  himself,  "I  will  perform  this  act 
once  with  my  whole  attention,  then 
leave  it  and  turn  my  mind  in  other 
channels  before  I  have  dulled  my  per- 
ception by  repetition." 

If  one  is  prone  to  chronic  indeci- 
sion, he  must  remind  himself  that  it 
is  better  to  do  the  wrong  thing  with 
single  mind,  than  to  work  himself 
into  a  frenzy  of  anxious  doubt.  In 
case  the  choice  is  not  an  important 
one,  he  must  learn  to  pounce  upon 
either  task,  and  waste  no  further 
time.  If  the  doubt  concerns  an  im- 

250 


HOME  TREATMENT 

portant  matter,  he  must  learn  to 
devote  only  that  attention  to  the  mat- 
ter which  is  commensurate  with  its 
importance,  then  decide  it  one  way  or 
the  other,  realizing  that  it  is  better  to 
make  a  mistake,  even  in  an  important 
matter  than  to  worry  one's  self 
into  utter  helplessness  by  conflicting 
emotions. 

If  insistent  fear  attacks  one,  he 
must  remind  himself  that  the  worst 
that  can  happen  to  him  is  not  so  bad 
as  the  state  of  the  chronic  coward  and 
the  hypochondriac.  He  must  practice 
taking  the  chances  that  others  do, 
and  must  learn  to  go  through  the 
dreaded  experiences,  not  with  his 
nervous  system  stimulated  into  undue 
tension,  but  with  body  and  mind 
relaxed  by  such  considerations  as  I 
have  indicated. 

The  maxim  is  a  useful  aid  in  sug- 

251 


WHY  WORRY? 

gestion,  but  it  should  be  carefully 
selected.  Most  children  seem  to  be 
brought  up  on  maxims  which  pre- 
suppose mental  deficiency  and  con- 
stitutional carelessness.  But  the 
naturally  over-thoughtful  and  too- 
conscientious  child,  the  child  to  whom 
applies  Sir  John  Lubbock's  observa- 
tion that  the  term  "happy  childhood" 
is  sometimes  a  misnomer,  needs  no 
admonition  to  "Try,  try  again,"  and 
to  "Never  weary  of  well  doing." 

Among  other  sayings,  whether  of 
home  manufacture  or  acquired,  I 
have  often  found  comfort  in  a  sug- 
gestion first  called  to  my  attention  by 
my  friend,  Dr.  Maurice  Richardson, 
who  carries,  I  believe,  Epictetus  in 
his  bag,  but  who  does  not  despise  the 
lesser  prophets.  One  day  when  I  was 
borrowing  trouble  about  some  pro- 
spective calamity,  he  said  he  always 

252 


HOME  TREATMENT 

drew  consolation  from  the  old  far- 
mer's observation: 

"Mebbe  'taint  so!" 

Much  unintentional  self-suggestion 
is  conveyed  in  one's  habitual  method 
of  expressing  his  attitude  toward 
annoyances,  thus:  "That  simply 
drives  me  wild."  Suppose,  now,  one 
should  try  a  little  substitution;  for 
example : 

That 
Nothing 


5-  drives  me  wild. 


(but  that). 
I  can  stand  anything   .    ,      ,,  . 

(not)  (this) 

I  can  ,  _  >   sleep  in    ,        >    position. 
- 


The  quieting  effect  is  immediately 
perceptible. 

Nor  is  the  injurious  effect  of  the 
explosive  habit  of  speech  limited  to 
the  person  who  indulges  it.  The  other 
day  a  lady,  apparently  in  no  haste, 
sauntered  into  a  station  of  the  "Ele- 

253 


WHY  WORRY? 

vated"  ahead  of  me,  holding  by  the 
hand  a  small  boy.  The  boy  was 
enjoying  himself  immensely,  gazing 
about  him  with  the  wide-awake,  but 
calmly  contemplative  air  peculiar  to 
childhood.  Suddenly  the  lady  saw 
that  a  train  was  about  to  leave  the 
station,  and  was  seized  by  the  not 
uncommon  compulsion  to  take  the 
last  train  instead  of  the  next  one. 
She  hurried  the  boy  across  the  plat- 
form only  to  meet  the  closed  door  of 
the  departing  train. 

"Isn't  that  provoking!"  she  ex- 
claimed. And  the  boy  began  to 
whimper. 

Although  the  main  object  of  this 
book  is  to  call  attention  to  the  mental 
rather  than  the  physical  treatment 
of  these  states,  I  cannot  forbear  re- 
minding the  reader  of  certain  routine 

254 


HOME  TREATMENT 

measures  which  facilitate  the  desired 
improvement  in  mental  attitude. 

It  is  well  to  start  the  day  with  a 
quick  plunge  in  cold  water,  that  is,  in 
water  of  the  natural  temperature 
excepting  in  the  cold  season,  when 
the  extreme  chill  may  be  taken  off  to 
advantage.  A  brisk  rub  with  rough 
towels  should  follow.  One  should 
proceed  immediately  from  the  warm 
bed  to  the  bath,  and  should  not  first 
"cool  off."  A  few  setting-up  exer- 
cises (bending  the  trunk  forward  and 
back,  sidewise,  and  with  a  twist)  may 
precede  the  bath,  and  a  few  simple 
arm  exercises  follow  it.  A  few  deep 
breaths  will  inevitably  accompany 
these  procedures.  When  one  returns 
to  his  room  he  no  longer  notices  the 
chill  in  the  air,  and  he  has  made  a 
start  toward  accustoming  himself  to, 
and  really  enjoying,  lower  tempera- 

255 


WHY  WORRY? 

tures  than  he  fancied  he  could  stand 
at  all. 

Every  healthy  adult  should  walk 
at  least  two  miles  daily  in  the  open. 
We  have  been  forced  to  readjust  our 
ideas  as  to  the  distance  even  an 
elderly  person  can  walk  without  harm 
since  a  pedestrian  of  sixty-nine  has, 
without  apparent  injury,  covered 
over  one  thousand  miles,  over  or- 
dinary roads,  at  an  average  of  fifty 
miles  a  day. 

The  day's  work  should  be  started 
with  the  resolution  that  every  task 
shall  be  taken  up  in  its  turn,  without 
doubts  and  without  forebodings,  that 
bridges  shall  not  be  crossed  until  they 
are  reached,  that  the  vagaries  of 
others  shall  amuse  and  interest,  not 
•  distress  us,  and  that  we  will  live  in 
the  present,  not  in  the  past  or  the 
future.  We  must  avoid  undertaking 

256 


HOME  TREATMENT 

too  much,  and  whatever  we  do  under- 
take we  must  try  not  to  worry  as  to 
whether  we  shall  succeed.  This  only 
prevents  our  succeeding.  We  should 
devote  all  our  efforts  to  the  task  itself, 
and  remember  that  even  failure 
under  these  circumstances  may  be 
better  than  success  at  the  expense  of 
prolonged  nervous  agitation. 

"Rest  must  be  complete  when 
taken  and  must  balance  the  effort  in 
work — rest  meaning  often  some  form 
of  recreation  as  well  as  the  passive 
rest  of  sleep.  Economy  of  effort 
should  be  gained  through  normal  con- 
centration— that  is,  the  power  of 
erasing  all  previous  impressions 
and  allowing  a  subject  to  hold 
and  carry  us,  by  dropping  every 
thought  or  effort  that  interferes 
with  it,  in  muscle,  nerve,  and  mind." 
(Annie  Payson  Call, ' '  Power  Through 
Repose.") 

17  25V 


WHY  WORRY? 

The  over-scrupulous  and  method- 
ical individual  who  can  neither  sleep 
nor  take  a  vacation  until  all  the 
affairs  of  his  life  are  arranged  must 
remind  himself  that  this  happy  con- 
summation will  not  be  attained  in  his 
lifetime.  It  behooves  him,  therefore, 
if  he  is  ever  to  sleep,  or  if  he  is  ever 
to  take  a  vacation,  to  do  it  now,  nor 
need  he  postpone  indefinitely 

"  That  blessed  mood 
In  which  the  burthen  of  the  mystery, 
In  which  the  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all   this  unintelligible  world 
Is  lightened." 


XIX. 

HOME  TREATMENT  (CONTINUED) 

HAPPINESS  and  success  in  life  do  not  depend  on 
circumstances,  but  on  ourselves. 

Sir  John  Lubbock. 

THE  obsession  to  "arrive"  is  a 
fertile  source  of  fret  and  worry.  This 
habit  of  mind  leads  to  frantic  and 
impatient  labor  and  blocks  our  pleas- 
ure at  every  point.  The  person  who 
plays  a  game  only  to  see  who  wins 
loses  half  the  benefit  of  the  recrea- 
tion. Here  are  two  ways  of  walking 
the  half-mile  to  and  from  my  office : 

Suppose  I  start  out  with  my  mind 
on  my  destination,  thinking  only  of 
what  I  shall  do  when  I  get  there,  and 
how  I  shall  do  it.  This  thought  in- 
fluences my  whole  body.  I  am  all 
" keyed  up,'7  my  muscles  are  tense, 

259 


WHY  WORRY? 

my  breathing,  even,  is  constricted  and 
the  walk  does  me  comparatively  little 
good. 

Suppose,  now,  I  decide  I  am  mak- 
ing a  mistake,  and  determine  to  live 
in  the  present.  General  relaxation 
follows,  I  take  a  deep  breath,  and 
begin  to  notice  my  surroundings.  I 
may  even  observe  the  sky-line  of  the 
buildings  I  have  passed  daily  for 
years  without  knowing  they  had  a 
sky-line;  my  gait  becomes  free  and 
life  takes  on  a  different  aspect.  I 
have  taken  a  long  step  toward  mental 
tranquillity  as  well  as  gaining*' power 
through  repose." 

One  of  the  hardest  obsessions  to 
overcome  is  the  unduly  insistent  habit 
of  mind  regarding  orderliness  and 
cleanliness.  It  is  not  undue  to  desire 
and  practice  a  reasonable  degree  of 
these  virtues,  but  when  it  gives  one  a 

260 


HOME  TREATMENT  (CONTINUED) 

"fit"  to  see  a  picture  slightly  off  the 
level,  and  drives  one  "wild"  to  see  a 
speck  of  dust,  it  is  time  to  modify  the 
ideal.  This  is  the  frame  of  mind 
which  encourages  worry  over  trifles. 
If  one  really  wishes  to  lessen  worry 
he  must  cultivate  a  certain  degree  of 
tolerance  for  what  does  not  square 
with  his  ideas,  even  if  it  does  violence 
to  a  pet  virtue. 

The  careful  housekeeper  may  ob- 
ject that  so  long  as  she  can  regulate 
her  household  to  her  liking,  the  habit 
of  orderliness,  even  though  extreme, 
causes  her  no  worry.  But  it  is  only 
the  hermit  housekeeper  who  can  en- 
tirely control  her  household.  And 
further,  the  possessor  of  the  over- 
orderly  temperament,  whether  ap- 
plied to  housekeeping,  business,  or 
play  (if  he  ever  plays),  is  bound 
sooner  or  later  to  impinge  his  ideas 

261 


WHY  WORRY? 

of  orderliness  upon  the  domain  of 
other  peoples'  affairs,  in  which  his 
wishes  cannot  be  paramount.  In  this 
event,  at  least,  he  will  experience  a 
worry  only  to  be  allayed  by  learning 
to  stand  something  he  does  not  like. 

Worry  about  the  mental  condition 
is  disastrous.  The  habit  should  be 
cultivated  of  taking  the  mind  for 
what  it  is,  and  using  it,  wasting  no 
time  in  vain  regrets  that  it  is  not 
nimbler  or  more  profound.  Just  as 
the  digestion  is  impeded  by  solicitude, 
so  the  working  of  the  brain  is  ham- 
pered by  using  the  energy  in  worry 
which  should  be  devoted  directly  to 
the  task  in  hand.  Children  fre- 
quently worry  because  their  memory 
is  poor.  It  should  be  explained  to 
them  that  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of 
a  hundred  apparent  lack  of  memory 

262 


HOME  TREATMENT  (CONTINUED) 

is  only  lack  of  attention,  and  they 
should  be  urged  to  cease  distracting 
the  attention  by  wandering  in  the 
fields  of  idle  speculation  or  in  making- 
frantic  leaps  to  surmount  imagin- 
ary obstacles. 

It  is  important  for  parents  of 
morbidly  sensitive  and  over-scrupu- 
lous children,  with  acute  likes  and 
dislikes,  to  discourage  the  tendency 
of  the  child  to  become  more  and  more 
peculiar.  Sensitive  children  are  in- 
clined to  worry  because  they  think 
others  do  not  care  for  them  or  want 
them  round.  If  such  children  can  be 
led  to  take  a  bird's-eye  view  of  them- 
selves, they  may  be  made  to  realize 
that  others  crave  their  society  accord- 
ing as  they  are  helpful,  entertaining, 
sympathetic,  or  tactful,  because  they 
instil  courage  and  give  comfort. 
They  should  be  urged,  therefore,  to 

263 


WHY  WORRY? 

cultivate  these  qualities  instead  of 
wasting  their  energy  in  tears  and 
recriminations;  and  they  should  be 
encouraged  to  practice  such  of  these 
traits  as  they  can  master  instead  of 
becoming  moody  in  society,  or  with- 
drawing to  brood  in  solitude,  either 
of  which  errors  may  result  in  pro- 
ducing on  the  part  of  others  a  genuine 
dislike.  In  other  words,  teach  them 
to  avoid  enforcing  too  far  their  ego 
on  themselves  or  their  environment. 
Parents  must  also  remember  that 
over-solicitous  attention  on  their  part 
is  bound  to  react  to  the  disadvantage 
of  the  child.  The  story  is  told  of 
Phillips  Brooks  that,  when  a  child,  he 
put  a  newly  sharpened  pencil  into  his 
mouth  further  and  further  until  it 
slipped  down  his  throat.  He  asked 
his  mother  what  would  happen  if 
anyone  should  swallow  a  pencil.  She 

264 


HOME  TREATMENT  (CONTINUED) 

answered  that  she  supposed  it  would 
kill  him.  Phillips  kept  silence,  and 
his  mother  made  no  further  inquiry. 
This  incident  would  indicate  that 
Phillips  Brooks  had  already,  as  a 
child,  attained  a  mental  equipoise 
which  the  average  individual  hardly 
achieves  in  a  lifetime.  The  story 
appeals  to  me  no  less  as  evidence  of 
self-control  on  the  part  of  the 
mother ;  and  I  like  to  imagine  that  she 
suppressed  the  question  a  startled 
parent  naturally  would  ask,  realizing 
that  no  amount  of  worry  would  recall 
the  pencil  if  he  had  swallowed  it,  and 
that  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  over- 
turning the  household,  or  by  giving 
the  boy  an  example  of  agitation  sure 
to  react  to  the  detriment  of  the  mind 
unfolding  under  her  supervision. 
Unless,  therefore,  the  facts  of  this 
story  have  become  distorted  by  im- 

265 


WHY  WORRY? 

agery,  it  shows  exceptional  heredity 
and  unusual  training. 

Not  every  one  can  claim  such 
heredity,  and  not  every  one  can  look 
back  on  such  training;  but  it  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  every  one  can 
so  direct  his  thoughts  and  so  order 
his  actions  as  gradually  to  attain  a 
somewhat  higher  level  of  self-control 
than  either  his  mental  endowment  or 
his  early  training  would  have  prom- 
ised. For  mental  training  is  no  more 
limited  to  feats  of  memory,  and  to 
practice  in  the  solution  of  difficult 
problems,  than  is  physical  training 
comprised  in  the  lifting  of  heavy 
weights  in  harness.  In  fact,  such 
exercises  are  always  in  danger  of 
leaving  the  mental  athlete  intellect- 
ually muscle-bound,  if  I  may  use  such 
an  expression;  whereas  the  kind  of 
training  I  have  in  mind  tends  to 

266 


HOME  TREATMENT  (CONTINUED) 

establish  mental  poise,  to  improve  the 
disposition,  to  fit  the  mind  (and  in- 
directly the  body)  better  to  meet  the 
varied  exigencies  of  daily  life,  and 
to  help  the  individual  to  react  in 
every  way  more  comfortably  to  his 
surroundings. 

I  have  only  hinted  at  the  detailed 
suggestions  by  which  the  worry  habit 
and  allied  faulty  mental  tendencies 
may  be  combated.  The  obsessive 
who  is  able  to  alter  his  ideals  and 
systematically  pursue  the  line  of 
thought  here  sketched  will  himself 
find  other  directions  in  which  control 
can  be  exercised.  It  is  true  that  no 
one  is  likely  to  reach  any  of  the 
extreme  degrees  of  incapacity  we 
have  considered  unless  he  is  naturally 
endowed  with  a  mind  predestined  to 
unbalance.  At  the  same  time  any  of 
us  who  have  a  nervous  temperament 


WHY  WORRY? 

ever  so  slightly  above  the  average  of 
intensity  will  do  well  to  check  these 
tendencies  as  far  as  possible  in  their 
incipiency,  realizing  that  no  physical 
evil  we  may  dread  can  be  worse  than 
the  lot  of  the  confirmed  hypochon- 
driac or  the  compulsively  insane. 

Perhaps  I  have  dwelt  too  much 
upon  the  extreme  results  of  morbid 
mental  tendencies,  and  too  little  upon 
the  ideal  for  which  we  should  strive. 
This  ideal  I  shall  not  attempt  to 
portray,  but  leave  it  rather  to  the  im- 
agination. Suffice  it  to  say  that  the 
ladder  by  which  self-control  is  at- 
tained is  so  long  that  there  is  ample 
room  to  ascend  and  descend  without 
reaching  either  end.  Some  of  us  are 
started  high  on  the  ladder,  some  low ; 
but  it  is  certainly  within  the  power 
of  each  to  alter  somewhat  his  level. 
We  can  slide  down,  but  must  climb 

268 


HOME  TREATMENT  (CONTINUED) 

up;  and  that  such  commonplaces  as 
are  here  presented  may  help  some  of 
my  fellow  worriers  to  gain  a  rung  or 
two  is  my  earnest  wish.  Even  when 
we  slip  back  we  can  appreciate  the 
sentiment  of  Ironquill: 

"Hour  after  hour  the  cards  were  fairly  shuffled 

And  fairly  dealt,  but  still  I  got  no  hand; 
The  morning  came,  and  with  a  mind  unruffled 
I  only  said,  *  I  do  not  understand.' 

"Life  is  a  game  of  whist.     From  unseen  sources 

The  cards  are  shuffled  and  the  hands  are  dealt; 
Blind  are  our  efforts  to  control  the  forces 
That,  though  unseen,  are  no  less  strongly  felt. 

"  I  do  not  like  the  way  the  cards  are  shuffled, 
But  yet  I  like  the  game  and  want  to  play; 
And  through  the  long,  long  night  will  I,  un- 
ruffled, 
Play  what  I  get  until  the  break  of  day." 


269 


XX 

NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT? 

But  tell  me  true 

For  I  must  ever  doubt  though  ne'er  so  sure. 
Timon  of  Athena,  iv,  3,  514. 

SINCE  the  foregoing  chapters  were 
written  we  have  gone  through  a  war 
whose  horrors,  and  whose  farreaching 
consequences  would  be  beyond  my  pen 
to  register,  even  if  they  were  not  already 
matters  of  common  knowledge. 

The  question  agitating  every  think- 
ing mind  today  is — What  next?  Will 
the  League  of  Nations  do  away  with 
war?  Or  are  we  yet  to  see  a  cataclysm 
in  comparison  with  which  the  late 
affair  will  seem  an  idyll  of  safety  and 
content?  Are  we  to  see  the  arts  of 
civilization,  now  rudely  interrupted, 
advance  with  leaps  and  bounds  to 

270 


NOBODY  KNOWS-WHAT  OF  IT? 

unimaginable  attainment?  Or  are 
those  arts,  together  with  ourselves,  to 
become  submerged  in  a  flood  of  poison 
gas  from  which  some  farsighted  but 
lonely  Noah  shall  painfully  emerge 
with  the  crude  elements  from  which 
develops,  say  in  four  thousand  years,  a 
still  higher  order  of  things  than  this? 

In  the  new  regime  shall  reason  rule, 
and  use  be  made  of  every  talent  we 
possess?  Or  shall  the  wisdom  that  is 
beyond  logic  and  the  theory  that  takes 
no  note  of  facts  prevail,  and  we  be 
propogandered  into  foregoing  such  natu- 
ral or  acquired  advantages  as  we  may 
possess,  and  resolve  to  do  no  more  for 
ourselves  or  others,  and  demand  no 
more  in  recompense,  than  the  unskilled 
laborer?  Or  shall  we  even  go  a  step 
farther,  and  decide  that  we  are  taking 
unfair  advantage  of  our  canine  friends 
when  we  use  articulate  speech,  to  say 

271 


WHY  WORRY? 

nothing  of  hands  with  thumbs  as  well 
as  fingers,  and  so  agree  to  earn  no  more 
than  teeth  and  toes  permit,  and  save  no 
more  than  we  can  bury  with  our  claws? 
Perhaps,  indeed,  we  should  include 
among  the  possibilities  that  after  such 
an  excursion  to  the  bow-wows,  men 
and  dogs  alike,  by  some  inarticulate 
understanding,  sink  to  the  level  of  the 
wolves,  and  thus  complete  the  devolu- 
tion! 

I  don't  know  We  don't  know 

You  don't  know  You  don't  know 

He  doesn't  know  They  don't  know 

Nobody  knows 

What  of  it?  Whichever  of  these  sup- 
positions approximates  the  truth,  or 
whether  some  totally  different  and 
inconceivable  outcome  follows  this  age 
of  sudden  changes  and  uncertainty, 
you  and  I,  and  each  of  the  several 
hundred  million  people  who  are  inter- 

272 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT  ? 

ested,  will  do  more  toward  steadying 
the  world  by  pegging  away  at  our 
bench  than  we  can  by  wringing  our 
hands  and  pulling  at  our  fingers  in  the 
vain  endeavor  to  square  everything 
today  with  our  notion  of  tomorrow's 
fitness. 

In  the  spring  of  1913  I  delivered  a 
public  address  at  the  Harvard  Medical 
School,  under  the  title  "How  to  Culti- 
vate Emotional  Poise  in  a  Strenuous 
Age,"  a  title  shortened  later,  at  the 
suggestion  of  the  publisher,  to  "Calm 
Yourself," — a  happy  suggestion,  since 
it  implied  that  the  desired  accom- 
plishment lies  in  the  hands  of  the  reader. 

In  this  address  I  quoted — with  the 
intimation  that  it  appealed  to  me — the 
teaching  of  Brooks  Adams,  who  assures 
us  that  civilization  is  a  recurrent  phe- 
nomenon, doomed  to  ripen  and  decay 
like  any  other  fruit.  I  cited,  further 

18  273 


WHY  WORRY  ? 

the  studies  of  Petrie,  who  describes 
eight  distinct  epochs  of  civilization, 
the  eighth  of  which  we  are  now  passing 
through.  The  seventh  was  ushered  in 
with  Praxiteles,  and  died  with  the  fall 
of  the.  Roman  Empire;  the  sixth  was 
flourishing  in  the  time  of  Rameses  and 
the  Exodus,  and  so  on  backward  into 
the  remotest  past,  our  knowledge  of 
the  earlier  epochs  becoming  less  and 
less  defined.  Each  epoch,  Petrie  says, 
is  ushered  in  by  the  rise  of  sculpture, 
then  literature  advances,  then  comes 
the  development  of  natural  resources, 
and  finally  the  vast  accumulation  of 
wealth  that  precedes  eventual  collapse. 

The  worrier,  I  said,  may  accept 
these  views  with  equanimity,  since, 
even  if  we  take  Petrie  literally,  we  are 
still  several  centuries  to  the  good. 

The  next  day  an  abstract  of  this 
address  appeared  in  the  daily  papers. 

274 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT? 

Shortly  after,  a  friend  prominent  in 
clerical  circles,  who  had  read  this  ab- 
stract, greeted  me  with  the  exclamation, 

'You're  wrong!" 

"How  so,"  I  asked. 

"We  are  just  at  the  beginning  of  an 
epoch  that  will  surpass  all  others  in 
every  direction,  "whether  as  regards  the 
arts  and  sciences,  or  any  other  branch 
of  development  that  means  civiliza- 
tion." I  may  not  have  quoted  him 
exactly,  but  the  idea  was  that  we  of 
this  generation  were  to  take  advantage 
of  past  experience,  and  avoid  the  pit- 
falls that  caused  the  crumbling  of 
former  epochs. 

The  following  summer  I  spent  in 
England — studying  the  wild  flowers! 
— an  occupation  rudely  interrupted  by 
the  outbreak  of  hostilities.  The  jour- 
ney home  was  made  with  closed  port- 
holes and  extinguished  lights.  I  was 

275 


WHY  WORRY? 

glad  of  the  chance  to  sleep,  with  others, 
in  the  smoking  room,  on  account  of 
inadequate  and  unendurable  accommo- 
dation elsewhere  in  the  boat. 

One  of  the  first  persons  I  met  on 
landing  was  my  clerical  friend. 

"You  were  wrong!"  he  announced, 
after  the  conventional  greetings. 

"How  so?"    I  asked  again. 

"You  allowed  several  centuries  too 
many,"  he  explained. 

Another  friend  observed,  in  comment 
on  my  lecture,  that  if  he  held  such 
gloomy  views  of  the  world's  future,  he 
should  give  up  labor,  and  wait  in  idle- 
ness for  death.  Why  so? 

One  of  the  numerous  grades  through 
which  I  passed,  prior  to  graduation 
from  the  grammar  school,  was  presided 
over  by  a  teacher  to  whom  I  owe  more, 
I  think,  than  to  any  other  of  the  many 
who  ministered  to  my  intellectual  needs. 

276 


NOBODY  KNOWS-WHAT  OP  IT  ? 

The  one  memory  of  her  methods  that 
stands  out  most  clearly  in  my  mind  is 
her  order  to  the  drooping  class,  "All 
up!"  On  which  we  rose  and  went  in 
unison  through  certain  calisthenics, 
singing  as  we  exercised, 

So  let  the  wide  world  wag  as  it  will, 
We'll  be  gay  and  happy  still. 

Gay  and  happy, 

Gay  and  happy, 
We'll  be  gay  and  happy  still. 

A  very  frivolous  and  light-hearted 
view,  no  doubt,  of  our  duty  to  society, 
but  I  have  also  a  very  distinct  re- 
collection that  after  the  exercise  we 
buckled  down  to  work,  and  accom- 
plished more  than  we  did  before  this 
interruption  of  our  more  sedate 
proceedings. 

Would  it  be  a  waste  of  time,  after  all, 
for  us  grown-ups  occasionally  to  inter- 
rupt [our  serious  occupations — like 

277 


WHY  WORRY? 

deciding  where  we'd  play  Babe  Ruth,  or 
guessing  whether  steel  common  will 
gain  or  lose  a  point  today — and  unite 
in  singing,  with  calisthenics^ appro- 
priate to  our  age  and  infirmity, 

So  let  the  wide  world  wag  as  it  will, 
We'll  be  gay  and  happy  still! 

after  which,  it  is  to  be  understood,  we 
are  not  to  eat,  drink  and  be  merry, 
but  buckle  down  to  our  respective 
tasks. 

Another  of  those  vivid  early  memo- 
ries concerns  a  " piece"  I  had  to  speak, 
at  the  age  of  twelve,  with  solemn  mien, 
and  gestures  suited  to  the  exposition. 
Most  of  the  words  have  slipped  my 
memory,  but  the  story  had  to  do  with  a 
certain  Dark  Day  "like  that  of  which 
the  Noreland  sages  tell."  The  assem- 
bly— I  think  in  Connecticut — had  con- 
vened. All  the  members  were  expect- 

278 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT? 

ing  immediate  transportation  to  an- 
other world.  But  .  .  . 

"Then  the  speaker  read,  albeit  with 
trembling  hands  and  shaking  voice,  an 
act,  to  amend  an  act,  to  regulate  the 
shad  and  alewive  fisheries!" 

What  were  we  put  here  for?  Nobody 
knows.  What  of  it?  Why  not  imagine 
we  are  here  to  see  if  we  can  play  the 
game  as  we  find  it  without  wishing  it 
was  something  else?  Of  course  there  is 
little  satisfaction  in  this  thought  to  the 
person  so  obsessed  to  fathom  the  un- 
known that  he  cannot  start  upon  the 
simplest  journey,  let  alone  life's  jour- 
ney, without  knowing  whether  all  the 
trains  connect.  But  why  not  let  well 
enough  alone,  and  "Peg  Along,"  with 
such  courage  and  content  as  we  can 
muster?  This  I  take  to  be  the  every- 
day for  glorifying  God  and  enjoying 
Him  forever. 

279 


WHY  WORRY? 

The  degree  of  our  discontent  under 
handicap  and  misfortune  rests  some- 
what with  ourselves.  It  was  not  by 
accident  that  the  word  refused  was 
incorporated  in  the  familiar  quotation 
from  Jeremiah : 

"A  voice  was  heard  in  Ramah,  lamen- 
tation and  bitter  weeping;  Rachel 
weeping  for  her  children,  refused  to  be 
comforted  because  they  were  not.  Thus 
saith  the  Lord;  refrain  thy  voice  from 
weeping  and  thine  eyes  from  tears, 
for  thy  work  shall  be  rewarded." 

And  here  we  have  an  early  exploi- 
tation of  labor  as  an  antidote  for  grief. 

I  know  a  man  whose  eyesight  is 
reduced  to  a  pinhole.  He  jogs  merrily 
along  as  if  his  sight  were  perfect.  As 
he  walks  across  the  room  he  often  hits  a 
chair  or  table — his  shins  are  covered 
with  bruises.  On  one  occasion  he  ran 
plump  into  a  man,  who  shouted: 

280 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT? 

" Where  are  you  going!  Are  you 
blind?" 

"Why,  yes/'  he  answered  politely, 
"I  am  very  sorry  it  makes  me  so 
clumsy!" 

A  born  mechanic,  he  feels  what  he 
cannot  see,  and  accomplishes  more 
with  the  lathe  than  many  a  normal 
laborer. 

It  is  the  obsession — whether  for 
absolute  safety  and  perfect  health 
or  to  have  all  things  ordered  to  our 
liking —  that  breaks  others  down  under 
handicaps  less  vital  than  the  loss  of 
sight.  The  man  who  becomes  perma- 
nently morose  and  inconsolable  under 
stress  of  blindness  is  the  one  who 
never  could  eat  a  hard-boiled  egg  when 
he  wanted  it  soft!  The  one  who  can- 
not reconcile  himself  to  the  unexpected 
in  little  things  can  hardly  hope  to  view 
great  disappointments  with  equanimity. 

281 


WHY  WORRY? 

We  hear  of  rising  to  the  occasion,  but 
it  is  a  safe  prediction  that  the  man 
who  cannot  rise  to  the  little  occasion 
will  hardly  find  the  wings  to  surmount 
the  great  one. 

Two  boys  used  to  care  for  my  office 
on  alternate  days.  One  of  them,  on 
being  expostulated  with  for  dusting 
around  the  inkstand  instead  of  under 
it,  explained  that  he  was  looking  for  a 
bigger  job.  The  other  boy,  meantime, 
by  attending  strictly  to  business  ob- 
tained the  bigger  job  for  which  his 
colleague  is  still  upon  the  hunt. 

It  is  not  so  much  the  loss  of  a  faculty 
that  prostrates  the  sufferer  as  the 
insistent  desire  that  whatever  happens 
to  others,  he  must  be  left  alone.  He  is 
as  much  shocked  at  the  idea  of  any- 
thing happening  to  him  as  he  was  when 
the  oculist  first  told  him  that  he  needed 
glasses.  "Me  wear  glasses!  Ha,  Ha! 

282 


*   NOBODY  KNOWS -WHAT  OP  IT? 

I  don't  think!  They  don't  go  with  my 
style  of  beauty."  And  when  he  must 
perforce  resort  to  crutches  or  an  artifi- 
cial leg,  his  reaction  is  naturally  one  of 
permanent  and  unrelenting  gloom. 

It  is  in  response  to  the  spiritual  as 
well  as  the  material  need  that  the 
schools  for  occupational  therapy  have 
been  instituted  as  an  aftermath  of  war. 
The  opportunity  for  work  they  offer 
to  those  handicapped  by  the  great 
disaster,  not  only  helps  them  make  a 
living,  but  helps  promote  the  "Peace 
that  passeth  understanding." 

A  little  occupational  therapy  might 
have  benefited  the  lady  who  met  me 
one  day  last  year  with  the  remark, 

"Isn't  it  awful!" 

"Isn't  what  awful?"  I  asked,  uncer- 
tain whether  she  referred  to  the  recent 
explosion,  the  U-boat  menace,  or  the 
war  in  general. 

283 


WHY  WORRY? 

"That  we  can't  use  our  automobiles 
on  Sunday!"  she  explained. 

The  working  man,  also,  has  many 
handicaps,  but  the  same  handicaps 
that  serve  one  as  incentives  to  thrift 
and  gradual  rise  in  the  world,  drive 
another  to  drink,  and  still  another  to 
the  neglect  of  the  few  opportunities  he 
has,  to  rebellion  against  the  prevailing 
order  of  things,  perhaps  even  to  the 
theory  that  everyone  better  off  than 
himself  owes  him  a  living,  and  a  good 
one.  I  stopped  with  a  friend,  not  long 
ago,  at  a  "White  House"  on  wheels, 
to  partake  of  a  modest  luncheon.  My 
friend  was  passing  some  strictures  on 
the  increasing  demands  of  certain  labor- 
ers. It  looked,  he  said,  as  if  what  they 
wanted  was  to  draw  a  fat  salary  and 
not  work  at  all. 

"Well,"  said  the  proprietor  of  the 
establishment,  with  some  heat,  "Why 

284 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT? 

shouldn't  they?  That  is  what  you  do !" 
Now,  my  friend  happened  to  be  a 
conscientious  practitioner  of  medicine 
who  works  from  early  in  the  morning 
till  late  in  the  day,  for  the  poor  as  well 
as  for  the  rich,  and  who  often  curtails 
a  well-earned  holiday  to  answer  an 
emergency  call  from  a  patient  who 
cannot  even  pay  for  the  gasolene. 

Bernard  Shaw  (in  the  "Unsocial 
Socialist")  depicts  a  certain  agitator, 
with  a  grievance  against  society,  clamor- 
ing at  the  door  of  a  young  ladies' 
school  for  admittance  for  himself  and  a 
laboring  man  whose  house  had  been 
demolished  by  a  cloudburst.  The 
laborer  was  inclined  to  be  apologetic 
for  getting  them  all  up  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  and  to  express  thanks  for 
accommodations  gladly  tendered,  but 
the  agitator  takes  the  opportunity^  to 
rail  against  the  rich. 

286 


WHY  WORRY? 

"Give  your  bed  and  clothes  to  the 
woman,"  he  cries,  and  let  your  girls 
pitch  their  books  to  the  devil  for  a  few 
days  and  make  something  for  these 
poor  little  creatures  to  wear.  The 
poor  have  worked  hard  enough  to 
clothe  them.  Let  them  take  their  turn 
now  and  clothe  the  poor." 

And  it  was  the  laboring  man,  not  the 
agitator, who  had  to  bear  the  handicap 
of  hard  work  and  poor  pay,  insufficient 
shelter,  and  ignorance  of,  or  indifference 
to,  the  Malthusian  admonition. 

The  level  of  our  physical  courage  has 
certainly  been  raised  by  war.  The 
same  citizens  of  Boston  who,  twenty 
years  ago,  ran  to  cover  with  their  secu- 
rities, and  gave  up  the  usual  summer 
sojourn  at  the  seaside,  through  fear  of 
bombardment  by  the  Spaniards,  have 
been  studying,  with  interest  rather  than 
alarm,  the  guns  emplaced  upon  the 

286 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OP  IT? 

Common  for  defence  against  aerial 
attack,  a  danger  much  less  visionary 
than  and  four  times  as  deadly,  should  it 
materialize,  as  the  naval  attack  pre- 
dicted in  some  quarters  when  the  Span- 
ish men-of-war  left  their  harbors  for 
parts  unknown. 

Has  our  moral  kept  pace  with  our 
physical  courage?  I  doubt  it.  Some 
who  can  speak  calmly  today  of  shot  and 
shell,  even  in  their  present  deadly 
form,  can  think  of  poison  gas  without 
collapsing,  and  cheerfully  pay'a  premi- 
um for  aerial  flight,  seem,  when  the 
subject  of  universal  Bolshevism  is 
broached,  or  of  an  internationalism 
that  shall  level  boundaries  and  trans- 
form patriotism  from  a  virtue  into  a 
crime,  to  shudder  with  a  violence  that 
bids  fair  to  paralyze  the  effort  to  avert 
such  untoward  happenings.  But  why 
not  cultivate  also  our  courage  to  con- 

287 


WHY  WORRY? 

template    the    "  evils   that   we   know 
not  of?" 

This  is  the  sort  of  courage  my  former 
colleague  and  delightful  friend,  James 
Putnam, had  in  mind  when  he  penned, 
on  the  back  of  a  copy  of  Titian's 
" Charles  V.  on  Horseback,"  with  which 
he  once  presented  me,  this  dainty  verse  : 

With  lance  in  rest  the  eager  king  his  charger  spurs, 

New  realms  to  win,  new  adulation  for  his  throne; 
But  hope  of  worthier  fame  and  nobler  name  the 

Doctor  stirs, 

As,  armed  with  book  and  pill,  he  braves  the  dark 
unknown. 

And  if  the  theory  of  certain  other 
colleagues  should  stand  the  test  of 
actual  experience,  and  the  one  who 
wrote  these  lines  could  communicate 
to  us  the  hitherto  unknown,  the  last 
advice  he  would  impart,  I  fancy, 
would  be  to  cultivate  undue  solicitude 
for  the  future,  and  the  first,  to  follow, 

288 


NOBODY  KNOWS— WHAT  OF  IT? 

as  he  did,  throughout  his  life,  with 
single  mind,  whatever  task  lies  next 
at  hand. 

While  we  have  every  right  to  deplore 
the  depressing  features  of  this  age,  it 
will  do  us  no  harm  to  bear  in  mind  the 
words  of  the  greatest  spiritual  genius 
of  the  centuries  on  the  approach  of 
his  last  trial : 

"And  what  shall  I  say?  Father,  save 
me  from  this  hour:  but  for  this  cause 
came  I  unto  this  hour." 


289 


INDEX 


Adams,  Brooks,  on  decay  of  civilization 273 

Addison,  as  a  public  speaker 57 

Amiel,  a  doubter 98 

Angell,  George  T.,  on  sleep 155 

Anger,  Epicurus  on 28 

Annoyances,  maxim  for 140,  163 

Argumentative  tendency  in  doubting  folly  .  94  et  seq. 

Appetite,  Epicurus  on  gratification  of 27 

obsession  regarding 194 

Attention,  the  important  factor  in  memory 263 

Avebury,  Lord,  see  Lubbock,  Sir  John 

B 

Bacon,  Sir  Francis,  as  a  botanist 223 

Bathing Ill,  174,  255 

Beadon,  on  dismissing  unpleasant  thoughts 162 

Benson,  Arthur,  on  over-solicitude  of  parents. . .  182 

on  the  disagreeable 187 

Borrowing  trouble,  maxim  for 253 

Burton,  on  moods 205 

C 

Call,  Annie  Payson,  on  rest 257 

Carlyle,  obsessions  of 63 

hypochondria  of 120 

Cavendish,  shyness  of 58 

Clothing Ill,  175 

Concentration 153 

Corneille,  inability  to  express  self  in  public 59 

291 


INDEX 

PAQl 

Courtney,  on  fads 222-236 

work  and  worry 132 

Cowper,  on  affronts 139 

Criticism,  attitude  toward 247 

D 

Dana,  "  Partial  Passing  of  Neurasthenia," 130 

Descartes,  unable  to  express  self  in  public 59 

Deviation  vs.  Degeneration 100 

Digestion,  maxim  for  undue  solicitude  regarding.  112 

Doubting  folly 16,  82  et  seq. 

maxim  for 250 

Dryden,  unable  to  express  self  in  public 59 

E 

Epictetus 39,  193,  242 

Epicurus 22  et  seq.,  36 

Erasmus,  obsessions  of 64 

Exercise 110,  239,  255,  256,  259 

F 

Fads 179,  222  et  seq. 

Flaubert,  victim  of  doubting  folly 98 

Folie  du  doute,  see  doubting  folly. 

Froude,  on  Carlyle's  hypochondria 126 

G 

Genius,  and  obsession 66 

doubting  folly  in 98 

Gladstone,  on  dismissing  unpleasant  thoughts. .  162 

Goethe,  suggestion  for  mental  training 242 

Goldsmith,  on  trifles 190 

292 


INDEX 

G  PAGB 

Golf 110,  239 

"Golf  Arm," 169 

Gould,  eyestrain  of  Carlyle 120 

H 

Habit,  and  obsession 69 

Haeckel,  on  egotism  and  altruism 80 

Horace 38 

Huxley 119 

Hypochondria 14,  49,  101  et  seq.,  201 

maxim  for 50 

I 

Ibsen,  on  doubt 82 

Impatience  with  subordinates,  maxim  for 141 

Insistent  thought 42  et  seq. 

Insomnia,  see  sleeplessness. 

Irving,  Washington,  as  a  public  speaker 57 

J 

Johnson,  obsessions  of 62 

K 

Knapp,  doubting  habit 137 

L 

La  Fontaine,  unable  to  express  self  in  public. . .  59 

Lombroso 58,  98 

Lubbock,  Sir  John 223,  252,  259 

M 

Manzoni 59,  98 

Marcus  Aurelius 13,  22,  30  et  seq.,  139,  166 

IS  293 


INDEX 

M 

Maxims,  suggestive 50,  112,  140,  141,  158 

163,  201,  209,  250,  253 

Melancholy,  Thoreau  on 208 

Burton  on 205 

Mercier,  on  ability  to  forget 78 

Moliere,  on  hypochondria 101 

Montaigne 53 

Moods 205 

maxim  for 209 

N 

Neurasthenia 15,  129  et  seq. 

Newton,  unable  to  express  self  in  public 59 

O 

Obsession 54,  59  et  seq. 

Occupation  neurosis 166  et  seq. 

Old  age  no  bar  to  changing  habit 67 

P 

Parental  solicitude 182,  264 

Paul 137 

Pedantry,  in  the  obsessive 75 

Peterson 131,  143 

Petrie,  on  epochs  of  civilization 274 

Phobia 105  et  seq.,  199 

maxim  for 201 

Poison,  excessive  fear  of 70 

Pope,  on  taking  offense 139 

Putnam,  James  Jackson 288 

R 

Reade,  Charles,  on  parent  of  Erasmus 65 

Responsibilities,  delegating. 150 

Rossini,  phobia  of 107 

294 


INDEX 

S 

PAQB 

Saleeby 178 

Seclusion,  Epicurus  on 27 

Marcus  Aurelius  on 32 

Self-consciousness 50,  53,  et  seq. 

Sensations,  undue  attention  paid  to 112 

Shaw,  Bernard,  in  "Unsocial  Socialist" 285 

Sleeplessness 26,  135,  147  et  seq. 

maxim  for 158 

Soukanhoff,  on  the  obsessive, 76 

Spinoza,  on  control  of  the  emotions 141 

Spitzka,  definition  of  insanity 199 

T 

Taylor,  on  psycho-therapy 243 

Tennyson,  as  public  speaker 66 

Thoreau,  on  melancholy 208 

Tiffany,  Francis,  on  fear  of  future 78 

Tolstoi 98 

V 

Vacation 152,  237 

Virgil 59 

W 

Walking 179,  256,  259 

Weather-worry 46  et  seq.,  110 

Whiting,  Lilian,  on  enjoyment  of  the  moment. .  184 

Whittier 146 

Williams,  Harold,  treatment 142 

Writer's  cramp 166,  167 


295 


Date  Due 


•frn'fil     1Q77 

r  L.  D 

FEB1 

)  REC'D 

JON  2 

7  1977 

JUN  17 

lEC'D 

J77 

MAY  J6\ 

H978 

PRINTED    IN    U.S. 


CAT     NO.    24    161 


A  000  421  702  2 


WM1TO 
W239w 

1919 

Walton,  George  Lincoln 
vorry  ? 


MEDICAL  SCIENCES  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  IRVINE 
IRVINE,  CALIFORNIA  92664 


